The Barren Tree
by myeerah
Summary: It's been nearly a year since Grace left and Gabriel's ready to do something about it—until he's critically injured, that is. Rated for language and sexual situations.
1. Prologue

            A seed is tumbling though the air, spinning and whirling in slow motion.  It comes to rest, at last, on a bare patch of earth.  It is sick, poisoned, sure to die.

_            A ray of light falls on the ground, expanding in a golden cloud, becoming more and more brilliant until it is impossible to see anything but the light._

_            The light begins to fade, slightly, revealing a sapling where the seed had lain, strong and slender…and growing._

_            The sapling becomes a mighty tree, its green leaves covering the world in its comforting shade, the light falling in dappled patches though the branches, leaving a sensation of calm joy where it touches._

_            The light fades, the skies cloud, a storm gathers.  A low rumbling is heard, followed by a tremendous flash and crack._

_            The tree is split.  One by one the branches fall, the leaves wither and die, carpeting the ground beneath in sad memorial.  Only one branch is left…only one._


	2. Chasing Grace

_Rittersberg _

 _How could she do this to me? Never mind, I know the answer to that one. But why won't she talk to me? Shit, I know the answer to that, too. _

            Gabriel stopped his line of questioning right there. The self-recrimination accomplished nothing, and no matter how sorry he was, Grace was not coming back. He'd sent letter after letter-- _and I hate to write letters_ --with no response. She wouldn't respond to his e-mails either-- _I hate computer shit even more than letter writin' --and he couldn't call her: the only phone line was for the computer. He'd confessed everything in those letters, how he felt, what had happened, how _she _made him feel--and apologized profusely. _

             _The only thing she's told me is to stay away from her. Well, screw that!_  

            "Gerde, get me a plane ticket.  I'm gonna see Gracie!" 

            "I don't think that would be the wisest course, Gabriel." 

            "I'm aware of that. I'm doin' it anyway." Determination replaced the lost look in his green eyes. "I've screwed up my life enough already. I'm not gonna screw this up, too." 

            When Gerde hesitated he said, "Please, Gerde?"

            She sighed. "Go and pack. I'll call for you." 

            Gabriel hugged her fiercely. "Thank you, Gerde," he whispered. He bolted off for his room. 

             _You're not getting away from me this time, Gracie! _   
  


*  *  *

            The wind lashed at him as he roared down the lane. Gabriel never felt so free as when on his Harley. Now the feeling was mixed with apprehension. What if Grace rejected him after coming all that way? After finally deciding to-- _ugh __--commit to someone, the thought of rejection had his intestines in a death grip around his stomach. _

            "What to say, what to say… hi Grace? No. I've missed you? Ugh. I know you don't want to see me right now, but… oh hell. Grace, I love you. Will you marry m--" 

            A car, hidden by the tree line, pulled out right in front of him. Lost in thought, he couldn't stop or ever slow down. The last thing Gabriel knew was the feeling of his bones breaking as his hips hit the handlebars of his Harley.


	3. Breaking the news

 _India _

            "You wanted to see me?" 

            Chadrel lifted his head to regard Grace compassionately. 

            "Yes, Grace. You have received an urgent message. Will you read it?" 

            "It's _him again," she said, exasperated. _

            "Gabriel Knight? No.  Not exactly. I believe you should know what this says." 

            Understanding and sympathy exuded from every pore. Grace had no choice but to give in.  "Let me see what he wants now." 

            Wordlessly, Chadrel passed her the message. It read: 

 Grace, Gabriel has been in an accident.  He may be dying.  Please come.  Gerde 

            The words hit her like a physical blow. "Dying! How can he be dying?" She looked at Chadrel imploringly. "Gerde wouldn't lie. Do you know anything about this?" She paused, panic welling inside her. "Wait a minute. Gerde wouldn't lie, but Gabriel would. I wouldn't put it past him to send a phony message to make me come back. In fact, he already has! Like he would ever _really _say that he missed me or that he's "empty without me." That's not Gabriel. Gabriel would never admit to anything, even if it was true, which it's not. He's a pig! He has the morals of an alley cat and the sexual proclivities of a rabbit! He's just using me like he always has. I was so stupid to have ever fallen for it, just like all of the  _stupid  women he's seduced over the years. Well I'm not going to fall for it again! I'm not going to--" _

Grace became aware that Chadrel had been saying her name for some time. "What?" 

"Come look at this." 

The New Orleans  _Times Picayune  stared at her from Chadrel's computer screen. The relevant headline caught her eye. _

**Truth Is More Terrible Than Fiction**

Popular local novelist, Gabriel Knight, famed for his best-selling Blake Backlash occult mysteries, was thrown from his motorcycle after colliding with a car yesterday. He is currently being held in critical condition at a hospital in Munich. Sources say that he was on his way to the airport, having just booked a flight to India, reason unknown.

            Grace broke off, horrified. She closed her eyes for a long moment, breathed deeply, and said, "Chadrel, would you please make travel arrangements for me? I need to e-mail Gerde and pack." 

            "Certainly, Grace. You need to expiate this weight on your karma before you can go on," he answered, but Grace was already gone.   
  


* * * 

_New Orleans _

            A stray zephyr carried the smell of spring flora into the old house. 

            "That's the last of it, Mrs. Knight." 

            "Heavens, child! So formal! Call me Gran, dear. I've missed hearing it." The smile enlivened her delicate features and put a mischievous light in her eyes. It was warmly returned by the pretty girl with her. 

            "Okay. Gran." 

            "Let me go and get you a glass of lemonade. You certainly deserve it after all your hard work." 

            "Oh, I don't want to be a bother--" 

            "Nonsense, child. I'll go and get you a glass. Take a load off, that's it. I'll be right back." 

            Celeste smiled fondly after Gran left. She had wandered by the house about a year ago, taking in the sights of the city that was her new home, when she saw Gran drop an armload of bulbs for her garden. Celeste had rushed over to help pick them up, and from this was born a strange friendship. 

            Celeste had lost her father recently, and her mother withdrew herself further and further, a difficult thing for an adolescent girl to deal with. Gran had filled a hole in her life. She was almost like a real grandmother. 

            A sharp knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Could you get that, dear?" Gran's voice came floating out of the kitchen. "I'll be right there."

            Celeste went to the door. A rumpled-looking man with thinning hair and a gut had raised his hand to knock again. "Can I help you?" Celeste inquired. 

            "Uh, yeah. I'm here to see Mrs. Knight." 

            "Franklin?" Gran walked back into the living room with two glasses of lemonade. "Is that you?" 

            "Yes, ma'am." Mosely looked uncomfortable. 

            "Sit down, boy! It's good to see you. What brings you here? Have some lemonade." She passed one glass to Celeste and pressed the other into Mosely's hand as she pushed him into a chair. 

            "Ma'am--" he began. 

            "I've told you before, Franklin, call me Gran." 

            "Gran, this, uh, this isn't easy to say," he tried again. 

            "Spit it out before it chokes you, boy!"

            Mosely took her hands and guided her onto the sofa. "I got a call today. From Germany." 

            "Gabriel?" 

            "No. From his housekeeper, Gerde. Gabe's, uh, Gabe's been in an accident."

            The color drained out of her face. "How is he?" 

            "Not good. That's why Gerde asked me to tell you. She thought you should hear it from someone you know and in person. That elected me." 

            "What happened?" Her hands were trembling within Mosely's. He wasn't too steady, himself. 

            "Apparently he broadsided a car while goin' about seventy miles an hour. The impact flipped him right over the car--he was on his bike. About the only things he didn't break were his back and his face. Somehow. If he lives, he'll recover all right, but he's got a lot of internal injuries." 

            He looked at her gray face. "Are you up to visitin' him? I know it's a long trip, but it would mean a lot to him to see you again. I mean, if he--" 

            "Of course I'll go!" 

            "Would you like me to, you know, set everything up for you?" 

            She withered like her outburst had cost her all of her energy. "Please do. I-- Thank you, Franklin." 

            Utterly miserable now, Mosely handed Gran a slip of paper. "That's my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything. Anytime." He left. 

            Celeste recovered somewhat from her shocked silence. One look at Gran's face had her on her knees, holding Gran's cold hands in her own. "It's okay, Gran," she said quickly. "He'll be fine." Celeste tried to send reassurance through her grip. 

            "I lost Harrison, and I lost Phillip. I can't bear to lose Gabriel." 

            "You won't lose him, Gran. I promise." 

            "I can't take this alone." A blush of panic overtook her terrified pallor. "I can't face this. I can't lose my boy." 

            "Shh. It'll be okay." Celeste hugged Gran's unresisting form to her. "I'll go with you. It's spring break; I can go. I'm sure Mom won't mind." 

            "But you're so young! You can't possibly go!" Gran's eyes pleaded otherwise. 

            "Sure I can. I've been saving up for a trip to London this summer, so I have money and a passport and everything." 

            "But your mother will not want you to--" 

            "Sure she would. She's a huge fan of your grandson's work. Besides, she wants me to get out of the house more often. How much more out can I get than Germany?" She gave a lopsided smile. "You want company and I'd be happy to provide it." 

            "Go call your mother, dear." 

            "I'll be back before you finish your lemonade."


	4. Reunion

 _Munich _

            Gabriel floated in a drug induced haze. He hurt, dimly, almost like it was someone else's pain. 

            Someone else's pain. 

            Half remembered faces swam accusingly in front of his mind's eye. Hundreds of faces--more than twenty years worth--regarded him with pain and loss and regret. Some had cared for him, others had only used him as he had used them. 

            A dream memory blasted into him--a dragon, burning him, calling him unworthy, only redeemed by the love of three women. Which women? Who had loved him? Gran loved him; he loved her.  That was one. His mother was long gone. Who else had he loved? No. Who had loved him? Malia? She did love him. Didn't she? He had loved her. She was the first women he had loved like that. Did her love redeem him? He had killed her, though. If only by not saving her. She was gone now, she couldn't love him, and his love had faded. He still loved her, but she was gone now. 

            Now there was Grace. Grace, who had come for him when Malia would have inadvertently killed him. Grace, who had followed him across the ocean at the first hint of trouble. Grace, who had scraped him off the ground after that hunting trip. Grace, who stood by him when things were the roughest. 

            Grace, who had left him when he failed to return her love. It was so obvious now.  _Why am I so stupid! I deserve this._ I/

            Clenching torn muscles around shattered bones, Gabriel plummeted into an abyss of pain.  _I deserve this!_  It was like the change--  _I  deserve  _this!_  --the full body agony of bone and muscle and organ and skin shifting, bending, tearing. He was thrown back deeper into his mind by the sheer, excruciating pain that flared in every inch of his body. He tried to scream, but couldn't. The only sound was a weak whisper. . . _

            "Friedrich. . . "

* * *

            Grace dashed into the hospital waiting room to find Gerde dozing in a chair. The blonde woman looked awful. Dark rings under her eyes were prominent on her pinched, pale face. Her hair was lank, seemingly too exhausted to bounce the way it normally did. 

            Feeling guilty, but needing to know, Grace touched Gerde's hand. 

            "Gerde?" Grace said softly. "I'm here. How is he?" 

            "Grace?" Gerde woke with a start. "Oh, Grace. Thank goodness you're here. The doctor is with him again. He's hurt very badly." 

            "What happened?" 

            "Gabriel had been acting strange ever since he came back without you. He never told me much about what had happened between you. What happened?" 

            "We-- I-- It's just-- He and I-- It's not important right now. The newspaper said that Gabriel was coming to India. Is that true?" 

            "Yes. He had been brooding very much, lately. He finally said that he was going to see you. He said that he had made many mistakes in his life, but he was not going to lose you. Something along those lines, anyway." 

            Grace had no opportunity to process that as Gerde continued. "He actually begged me to make the reservation for him, Grace. I believe he felt so guilty about what had happened that he would seek your forgiveness at any cost." Gerde met Grace's eyes and continued solemnly. "Gabriel has finally realized how much he cares for you. He loves you, Grace." 

            Before Grace could formulate a reply, a sturdy woman entered and addressed Gerde in German for several moments. Grace watched intently, but could only pick out a few words. Still, the prognosis appeared to be positive as Gerde lost some of her worried expression. 

             _"Danke shoen,_  Doktor Eisenbeis," Gerde said at last. The doctor smiled at Gerde, then at Grace before leaving the room. 

            "Well?" Grace was tapping her foot. 

            "He is stabilized now. The internal bleeding has stopped. As long as nothing excites him too much he will recover. We can see him now, one at a time." 

            "Great." Grace began walking toward the door. 

            "Wait! Let me go first. I think he should know that you are here before he sees you." 

            "Oh. I guess that makes sense. Yes. Go see him, then go back to Schloss Ritter and get some rest. I can hold the fort here. You look ready to collapse, Gerde." 

            Gerde hugged Grace tightly. "Thank you for coming. I love Gabriel like a brother, but he needs more. He needs you, Grace."

  
* * *

            Grace sat in one of the less dilapidated chairs and waited. This was hardly the reunion she had anticipated. She had always imagined just somehow bumping into him by chance, on a case of her own, perhaps. Fully trained and independent and superior to his stupid, smirking butt. 

             _Which is currently beaten up because he was trying to make up with me. _

            No. Gabriel was perfectly capable of getting into trouble without any assistance. 

_ And I'm always the one to pull his butt out of the fire._  

            Resentment and guilt warred with each other in her head. As the battle reached a peak a door opened. 

            Werner Huber came into the room, then stopped in surprise at the sight of Grace. 

            "Miss Nakimura! I didn't expect to see you here." 

            Two figures manifested behind him. 

            "Grace?" one of them asked. 

            "Mrs. Knight?" 

            "Oh, Grace, dear. How are you? How's Gabriel?"

            "He'll probably be okay. Gerde's in with him right now." 

            "Where are my manners? Grace, this young lady is my dear friend, Celeste Bradley. Celeste, this is Grace Nakimura. She's a friend of Gabriel's." 

            "Nice to meet you, Celeste." 

            "You too." 

            "Mrs. Knight, we're only allowed to see Gabriel one at a time. Would you like to go next?" 

            "Would you mind, dear? I haven't seen him in so long, and now, this--" She couldn't continue. 

            Grace opened her mouth, but Celeste spoke first. 

            "It's okay, Gran. He'll be fine. You heard the lady. He'll be just fine." The words seemed to calm Gran down. 

            Just then the door to Gabriel's room opened and Gerde stepped out. 

            "You must be Gabriel's grandmother. I'm Gerde. Thank you for coming." 

            "I hear you've been caring for my boy, Gerde. Can I see him now?" 

            "Of course. I'll just tell him you're here." Gerde vanished for a moment, then reappeared. 

            "He'll see you now. I must warn you, he's very weak and not at all like himself. He is also on a lot of medications, so he may say some strange things. Try to disregard them." 

            As Gran went into the room Gerde looked quizzically at Celeste, then speculatively at Grace. 

            "May I have a word with you, Grace?" 

            "Of course." 

            Grace was directed into a corner of the room. 

            "There is one other thing about Gabriel's injuries," Gerde began in a low tone. "I hesitate to bring it up, but I know you, Grace. You need to know so that you do not broach the subject and cause Gabriel pain." 

            "What is it Gerde?" 

            "It is very personal for Gabriel… " 

            "Just tell me, already! Whatever it is, I can handle it." 

            "There were many injuries when he was thrown from his motorcycle. There were also injuries from being thrown  _into  his motorcycle." _

            "Yes. I know that. What are you getting at?" 

            "Grace! Please! Let me finish. What I am trying to say is that Gabriel--may have damaged his chances of… having children." 

            "Do you mean he, uh," Grace blushed, "he may lose a testicle? Or something?"

            "He--" Gerde returned the blush with interest. "He may have permanently lost his ability to… to… well, to  _function ." _

            Cheeks burning, Grace asked, "He won't be able to… um… to show his interest?" 

            Gerde nodded, embarrassed.

            Setting all other feelings aside, Grace thought back to a _very enjoyable night in Rennes-le-Chateau. Impossibly, her blush deepened. "Ever?" _

            Red cheeks were more evident than ever because of her fair skin when Gerde replied, "Possibly." 

            "Oh my." 

            "Indeed." 

            "Oh."

            "Yes." 

            The two women stared at each other in meaningful silence for a long moment. Gerde finally broke the quiet, saying something about going home, would Werner drive her? 

Oblivious to the activity around her, Celeste peering curiously at her, Grace sank back into her chair and thought,  _Gabriel impotent for the rest of his life? Poetic justice or--personal tragedy? _


	5. Drugged encounter

            "Gracie?" 

            "No, Gabriel," Gerde said calmly. "Your grandmother is here." 

            "Gran?"

            "Yes. She was worried about you. Try to put her at ease." 

            Gabriel tried to concentrate. Words seemed to be coming from a long way away. 

A long way-- "Gran's in N'Orleans."

            "She's come to see you."

            Morphine-laced thoughts moved sluggishly. "Where'm I?" 

            "You're in Munich. In a hospital." 

            "Oh." He thought for a moment. "Where's Gran?" 

            "Outside, waiting to see you." 

            "Let'r in." 

            Munich. Why was he in Munich? The opera? He hardly noticed Gerde leaving. The music. The pain. The fire. The pain. Grace. 

            "My dear boy. My precious angel. What have you done this time?" The words were as sweet at honey and stung like salt in his shredded mind. 

            "Gran?"

            "Yes, my boy?" 

            "Why're y'here?" 

            "Your young lady sent me a message through your friend, Franklin."

            Gabriel puzzled his way through that. "Gracie?" he asked, confused. 

            "No dear. That pretty little Gerde who's been sitting up here with you." 

            "Franklin? Gerde?" 

            "Never mind dear. You need your rest. I'll talk to you later." 

            There was something important. What was it? Oh, yes. 

            "Gran?" 

            "Yes, dear?" 

            "Love you." 

            Gran stopped, dumbstruck. She'd known, of course, but for him to actually say so-- "I love you, too, Gabriel. I always have, and I always will. You are my darling boy. Remember that, dear." 

            "M'kay, Gran." 

            "I'll let you sleep now, Gabriel. You need your rest to get better." 

            "Gran?" 

            "Yes, Gabriel?" 

            "Grace?" 

            "I'll send her right in. Rest now." 

            She kissed his cheek and left. 

            After an eternity with his wandering thoughts, or about ten seconds as others measured time, the door opened again.  
  


* * *

            Grace looked at the figure on the bed and tears welled in her eyes. Gabriel was ghost white between the bruises and cuts that showed everywhere skin was exposed. One arm and both legs were in casts, the body left open to deal with his internal injuries. His blond mane had been shaved in patches where his scalp had been stitched back together. There was a stiff binding across his hips and pelvis, but it was obviously removable. 

            Grace stopped that thought before it could develop. 

            "Gracie?" Gabriel's voice was weak, hesitant. It tore at her soul. 

            "Hello, Gabriel." She tried to stay calm and level. She couldn't afford to panic. 

            "Didn't think ya'd come." 

            "I heard you were trying to visit me. I thought I'd pre-empt you." 

            He gave a weak chuckle. "Still the same ol' Grace." 

            "I hear that you're _not_ still the same old Gabriel, though." 

            "Still me. Still dumb." 

            Grace laughed. "You've changed if you can say that." 

            "Am I that bad, Gracie?" While still a bit mumbled, his speech did seem a little sharper.

            "You have no idea, Gabriel. You have no idea." 

            "Wanted t' tell ya somethin'." 

            "What's that?" 

            "Love you." 

            Grace was stunned. Gerde had said so, she'd seen it in his letters, but to actually hear the actual words come out of his  _actual  mouth… _

            "Gracie?" 

            "Huh?" 

            "Marry me?" 

            After a long moment Grace closed her mouth. Slack-jawed shock was not going to help matters. 

            "Gabriel," she said, finally, "you are very heavily sedated right now. I'm going to let the drugs wear off. I'll see you later." 

            "Gracie!" he called, or tried to. His broken ribs jabbed into his lungs as unforgivingly as Grace, herself.  _She doesn't want me. She came back, but she doesn't want me.  _

            Too tired and in too much pain to call out, to sob, to  _anything _, a silent tear crept down his face. Another followed it. Worn out, he fell into troubled sleep.


	6. Midnight chat

            Celeste woke up, heart pounding.  _Where am I?  She analyzed that thought.  _Oh, like that's original. _ That's right. She was in a castle, of all things. In  __Germany!  Unbelievable. _

             _I'm amazed that Mom let me go. That was some fast talking there, girl. _ Her mother trusted Gran, but the idea of her baby girl going off to parts unknown put a stick in her craw. It had taken a lot of charm and liberal mention of her mother's favorite author to make her relent. 

             _This is not helping me sleep. _ Celeste got up and padded downstairs in her socked feet to the main hall. Everything was still. She looked around at paintings and decorative art. A large portrait drew her eye. It was a handsome older man. Looking closely, she made out the plaque underneath it: Wolfgang Ritter. It looked fairly new. 

             _He looks so. . . compassionate,_  she thought.  _Like a fairy-tale king.  _

            A muffled sound drew Celeste's attention. There was a doorway leading to what looked like a small chapel, or a shrine. A woman was sitting on a bench inside, face buried in her hands, back shaking with silent sobs. 

             _What was her name? _ "Grace?" Celeste asked, tentatively. 

            The woman froze. She slowly raised her head, red-rimmed eyes prominent in her tear-streaked face. 

            "What?" 

            "I'm sorry, it's just that I couldn't sleep so I came downstairs and I thought I heard something and I don't mean to… I'll just go, and--" 

            "No. That's okay. Celeste, wasn't it?" 

            Celeste nodded. "I don't mean to intrude." 

            "Actually, I'm glad you're here. Being alone isn't helping me." 

            "Do you want to talk?" 

            "You wouldn't believe how much if I told you, but--" 

            "I'm too young? Don't let that stop you. Age doesn't mean that much." 

            "Even more than age, though--" 

            "Think of it this way." Celeste smiled angelically. "I don't know anybody here but Gran, so I don't have any preconceived notions. I'm not as innocent as you might think, so you can't really shock me. Besides, people tell me I'm a great listener." 

            Quirking an odd half smile, she continued. "What's the worst that could happen? You give a bad impression to a complete stranger who you'll probably never see again. On the other hand," the smile was complete now, "you get a weight off your chest and, who knows, maybe even some insight into your problem. What's it gonna be: noble suffering in silence or free amateur psychology?" 

            Grace laughed. "You're right. There's nothing to lose, is there?" 

            "Nope. So spill it."

* * * 

            "So let me summarize. Correct me if I'm wrong. You still love him. He said he loves you. A notoriously commitment-shy man has asked you to marry him, but since he said and did some things to hurt you, you don't want to take any chances. You've said and done some hurtful things yourself, but never mind that right now. Reading between your carefully edited lines--you had sex. You felt used. Now, he can't anymore--yes, I heard you talking with that blonde lady--and you don't know whether to feel relieved that it's not an issue anymore, or upset because you'll never get the chance for some guilt-free nookie. Am I right?" 

            "You-- That--" Grace was stunned. "But you're only--" 

            "Sixteen. Yes. I already said that age isn't important. I'm hardly inexperienced, either." 

            "But--" 

            "Don't start. I know all of that. The fact remains that physical pleasure is the only thing you can be certain of. Everything else is illusory and transitory. People die, friendships whither, problems either go away or they kill you. The only certainty is that the comfort of a hug, the excitement of a kiss, the pleasure of sex is _real_ and _now and always will be, every time it happens." _

            Reflecting on that, Grace muttered, "Why do I feel like I'm talking to Gabriel?" 

            "It's probably how he feels, he just hasn't ever said it out loud." 

            "You may be right. It--it  _feels  like his attitude. I'd just never thought about it before." _

            "Think about it Grace. Please do. I'm going back to bed now, but I want to tell you one more thing. My dad died about a year ago. It's why Mom and I moved to New Orleans. I'll never get him back, but I'll always have him. I'll always have the feel of his hands on mine when he taught me how to play baseball. I'll have the kiss on my forehead before he went to work. I'll have his hug when he found out that I was going to skip fifth grade. That will always be there, and every time someone touches me, I'll know that. Every hug, every kiss reminds me that my father loved me. Nothing can ever change that, and nothing will ever change the way you felt with Gabriel." 

Silently, Grace watched Celeste go back upstairs, long dark hair in a girlish ponytail that concealed an active, mature mind. After several minutes, still deep in thought, Grace followed her up the stairs and went to her own bed. It was some time before she slept, and she dreamt of Rennes-le-Chateau and Gabriel.


	7. Goodbyes

            "Well, Herr Knight, you seem to be doing rather well for a man with your injuries." 

            Gabriel ignored the doctor, eyes fixed on the object in his good hand. 

            "Seeing that you are more aware now, I need to tell you more about your condition. There is, as you might say, good news and bad news." 

            "Oh?" His gaze never wavered. 

            "The good news," Doktor Eisenbeis continued, undaunted, "is that you are alive. In less than a week's time you have recovered enough to make your survival assured. Miraculously, you suffered no damage to your spinal cord, so that when the bones heal, you will be able to walk again. We were able to set all of the broken bones and they are mending without any problems that we can discover." 

            "Oh, goody." 

            "Unfortunately," she went on, "you have suffered lasting damage that may never heal." 

            "I can see that." Breaking off his intent study, he slammed the hand mirror down on the bed. "You cut my hair." 

            Somewhat taken aback, the doctor explained, "Yes. To sew up the cuts in your head. It's something we do." 

            "You're supposed to be a doctor, not a butcher!" 

            "Herr Knight, it was your hair or your head. We chose head." 

            "But you  _cut_  mah  _haiyuh! "_

            "Then is should relieve your mind to know that you may be impotent for the rest of your days. You will, in fact, _have_ those days in which to regrow your 'haiyuh.' Good day, Herr Knight." The door closed firmly behind her as Doktor Eisenbeis strode out. 

            A single word lanced out after her. 

            _" Whut!? "  
  
_

* * *

            Gabriel lay panting in pain. The door opened, but he hurt too much to see who it was. 

            "You really shouldn't be yelling like that with broken ribs, Gabriel," came the dry, sarcastic, much missed, and most unwelcome voice of Grace. 

            "I know," he whispered. 

            A hand hesitantly touched his face, then ran through his hair. "Not the hair, Gra-- Aw, hell." 

            "It's pretty bad, Gabriel. You need to wash it, too." 

            "Thanks. I just love it when you pick on my grooming habits." 

            "They're not really habits. More like quirks." She looked into his eyes. The green was much more clear, this time. "How do you feel? Seriously." 

            He turned his head rather than meet her eyes. He was terrified what he might see in them. "Like a eunuch in a harem, thanks for askin'. You?" 

            "You'll recover, Gabriel. You've been through worse than this." 

            "Yeah. It hurt about this much, too." 

            An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Grace broke it. 

            "Gabriel?" 

            Something in her voice made him look at her. He regretted it immediately, because he couldn't look away. She was so beautiful it hurt.

            "Do you remember what you said when I saw you yesterday?" 

             _How could I forget? _ "Yeah." 

            She took his hand in hers. "Did you mean it?"

            "Which part?" The touch of her skin made him remember the feeling of her body pressed against his, crying out… How could he answer her? _She deserves more than this._

            "Either. Or both." 

             _Maybe honesty is the best policy? I can't lie to her now. _ "Grace, I… I can't talk about it right now." 

            "I see." Clearly, she didn't. "I'm going back to India, Gabriel. I need to finish my training. I leave this afternoon. It should take about three months. Maybe you can talk about it then." 

            She turned to leave, but Gabriel caught one of her hands. 

            "What?" she snapped. 

            Trembling, he slowly raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. 

            "Good luck, Gracie. You'll do great, I know." He tenderly folded her fingers around his kiss and nuzzled his cheek against her hand before releasing it. 

            "Gabriel, you--" she spluttered, unable to complete the thought. Suddenly she swooped down and kissed him ferociously. He brought his hand up to brush her hair back and wipe away the suspicions of a tear from her eye. 

            "You utter bastard," she finished. 

            "Yeah. I know. See ya in three months?" 

            "Maybe." She grinned. "You know, I kind of like it when you're helpless." 

            After the door had shut behind her, Gabriel said softly, "I meant every word of it Gracie. I just can't follow through with it." 

             _At least, not until I get my… hair…back. _  
  


* * *  
  


            Grace sauntered into the waiting room to the curious stares of Gerde, Gran and Celeste. Gerde was the first to speak. 

            "How did he take it?" 

            "Which part?" 

            "Your departure." Gerde sounded anxious. "The last thing he needs is to be as depressed as he was when he came back without you the last time." 

            "Depressed? Oh. Yes. You'd mentioned that. No, he took it rather well, actually. Rather odd from a man who proposed marriage yesterday, isn't it?" Grace continued, oblivious to the sharp hiss of indrawn breath from Gran, "I need to be going. I should be back in about three months. 

            "Mrs. Knight, I'm glad to see you again, I'm sorry the circumstances are so terrible. Celeste… thanks for the talk. It was very helpful. Gerde, just… just take care of him, please?" 

            Grace hugged Gerde farewell, then wandered aimlessly out of the room, bemusedly thinking,  _I can't believe I said that to him. Shit! I can't believe I  meant  _it! _ _

* * *

            "Did I hear that correctly?" 

            "Hear what, Gran?" Celeste asked. 

            "My Gabriel proposed to marry Grace?" She sounded dangerously near tears. "My boy finally wants a family?" Settling arthritically into a chair, Gran's mouth opened to speak, but nothing emerged. 

            "Gran? What's wrong?" Celeste sat next to her and examined her critically. "There's nothing to be upset about, you know." 

            Gran took a deep breath. "You're right, of course. It just took me by surprise." Gerde's worried face caught her attention. "If Gabriel wants to marry Grace, then, no offense dear, who are you?" 

            "Mrs. Knight," Gerde replied stiffly, "I manage Gabriel's estate for him, and I care for him like a brother. That is all." 

            "Like a brother? Well." Gran looked Gerde over carefully. "I've always wanted a granddaughter. Call me Gran, please." 

            Gerde relaxed at the warm look of invitation of Gran's face. "Of course, Gran." 

            Celeste looked satisfied. "Now that that's settled, can I meet Gabriel? Mom'd be upset if I came all the way to Germany without ever even meeting him." 

            "Let me see if he's up to another visitor," Gerde said, smiling. She stepped into his room.  
  


* * *

            "Grand Central Station, can Ah help you?" Gabriel drawled as Gerde stepped in. 

            She flashed him an amused look. "I'm glad to see you recovering so quickly, Gabriel." 

            "It's shock, rest assured. It'll wear off." 

            "What do you mean?" 

            "Gawd, Gerde. Grace left me again. Am I supposed to be thrilled about that? She left me once, came back 'cause she thought I was dyin', rejected me anyway, and abandoned me the next day. I prob'ly  _should  have died. It'd be cheaper than these hospital bills. Any money I brought in is goin' t' be long gone by the time I get outta here." _

            "Don't worry about money, Gabriel. Have you checked your accounts recently? A wise investor has nothing to fear." 

            "Whaddya mean, Gerde?" 

            "I mean that you are a very wealthy man, Gabriel." 

            "Did you do that?" 

            Gerde blushed an affirmative. 

            "I love you, Gerde. In a big sister sort of way." 

            "I know what you mean, Gabriel." She laughed. "I know what you mean." 

            "Well, that's one thing then, but," his heart sank, "what about Gracie?" 

            "Grace had a rather determined look in her eye when she left. Don't give up hope." 

            "But you don't know Gracie like I do. She's got a side to that--gawd, I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but--if I can't, you know, make her happy, why would she stay with me?" 

            "Gabriel,  _every _ woman, no matter how studious and reserved she may appear, _every_ woman has that side. If she loves you that little aspect will not concern her." 

            "I wouldn't call it  _little. " _

            Annoyance flickered across her features, quickly replaced with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that some things never change about you. 

            "Now, the reason I came in here. Your grandmother brought a friend with her who would like to meet you. Is that all right?" 

            "One of Gran's bridge partners, I guess. Sure. Send 'er in." 

            Gerde tried to arrange his hair to cover the shaved spots. 

            "Looks like hell, don't it?" 

            "In all honesty? Yes."

            Gabriel chuckled, then winced. "Let the ol' biddy in, then find a nurse for me, wouldja? I could use another pain shot." 

            Gerde glanced mischievously at him, but only said, "Certainly." 

            "Thanks."  
  


* * *

            "German candystripers. Gawd." 

            Celeste was puzzled by this for a few moments, then, "No, Mr. Knight. I'm Celeste Bradley. I came with your Gran." 

            Gabriel stared, dumbfounded, at the face of a young woman--  _a girl _ --and wondered about Gran's taste in traveling companions. "I've got to say you're not what I expected, but if you're helpin' Gran, thanks."

            "I'm never what anybody expects, Mr. Knight, and there's no need to thank me. Gran is a great lady, and I love her like she's my own grandma." 

            "She does have that effect on people, don't she?" He laughed, gasped in pain, cringed from the pain of the gasp, then lay still by an effort of will. "Remind me," he panted, "to not do that." 

            Celeste hovered at his side, torn between trying to help and respecting the space of a stranger. 

            "Mr. Knight--" 

            "Gabriel," he interrupted. 

            One corner of her mouth pulled back into what was almost a smile. "Gabriel," she continued, rolling her eyes, "this may sound a little strange, but--" 

            "'F course you can have my autograph," he teased. 

            "Screw it." Celeste stepped to the head on the bed and swiftly reached down. 

            "What are you--oh. Oh, that's nice." Gabriel sighed happily. 

            Continuing to massage his temples and forehead, Celeste said, as casually as she could, "I talked with Grace last night." 

            The soothing motions of her hands made it too hard to be upset. "What about?" 

            "About you." Her fingertips brushed lightly over his eyebrows and down his cheeks. 

            "Whud she say?"

            "That you're the most infuriating man she's ever known." Celeste started on his neck and Gabriel moaned with pleasure. "That you make her feel alive. That you make her feel used. That she can't stand to be around you." Her fingers were stroking the tension out of his jaw. "That she can't stand to be away from you." She grazed his face from hairline to chin in soft, sweeping caresses. "That she hates you. That she loves you." Her hands went back to his scalp. 

            "Ow." 

            She pulled back instantly. "What did I do?" 

            I've got some cuts up there. Thanks, though." 

            "Sorry. No problem. I can see you're tired, so I'll go and let Gran see you before you fall asleep." 

            "Celeste?" She stopped, hand at the door. "Did Grace really say all that?" 

            Without turning, she answered, "Yes, but you didn't hear anything you didn't already know, did you?" 

            As the door closed he laughed softly.__


	8. Revelation

            "I must say, Herr Knight, that you are a much more agreeable patient after you have had visitors." Doktor Eisenbeis peered at him over her charts. There was a noticeable difference. His color had returned, bruises were almost indistinguishable, and most surprisingly, he had allowed his hair to be cut so that it would grow back evenly. 

            "You're a barrel of sunshine yourself, doc," he said, but in good humor. 

            "You are recovering with remarkable speed, Herr Knight. If you continue at this rate, you might be released in two more weeks." 

            "Two weeks? Why so long?" He cocked his head to one side. "What could I possibly do to myself if I go home?" 

            "You can move around too soon, rebreak your hips and pelvis, and spend the rest of your life with a severe limp--if you walk again at all." 

            He considered this for a moment, then grinned disarmingly. "How 'bout if I promise not to?" 

            She couldn't help herself; Doktor Eisenbeis laughed loudly. Finally she answered him, "No. Good try, but no. Your charm does not work on me, although I must confess that half of the staff are smitten with you." 

            "Only half?" 

            She laughed again. "Possibly more," she conceded. "You're still not going anywhere, Herr Knight." 

            "I'm goin' stir crazy in here, doc. I need to get out." 

            "I'm sorry, but you can't. I gather that you are a writer. Why not write?"

            "I can't work in here. I  _need _ to get out!" 

            "Too bad." 

            "You're all heart, doc." 

            "Consider this, Herr Knight: the less strain you place on yourself now, the more likely you are to recover your sexual abilities." 

            Gabriel winced.  "That was blunt, doc. You're tellin' me the longer I'm here, the better my chances, right?" 

            "Yes." 

            "Two weeks, huh?"

            "Most likely." 

            "Wanna make it three?"  
  


* * * 

            Celeste and Gran were going home and Gabriel wanted to discuss something with Gerde, first. 

            "How are things goin' at ol' Schloss Ritter, Gerde?" 

            "Rather hectic. The elevator should be installed within the next week." 

            "Elevator?"

            "Yes, Gabriel." At his blank expression she continued, "Perhaps it has not occurred to you that you will be unable to walk for several months? Schloss Ritter was not built with wheelchairs in mind." 

            "Shit! I'd blocked that off. Fuck! What can I do in a fucking wheelchair?" 

            Irritated with his self-pity, Gerde lashed out. "Catch up on your studies perhaps? Learn something of your duties as Schattenjager? Finally learn to speak German, seeing as you  _live  in Germany?" She was fuming. "Why did you want to know?"_

            Gabriel almost cringed, but thought better of it. Why should he? "Damn me, Gerde, I just wanted to know if you needed any help. Obviously it's more entertaining to yell at me, though. Forgiiive me!" The sarcastic drawl did nothing to alleviate either of their tempers. 

            "Well guys," came a voice, "it's 'bout time we were--what's up with you two?" Celeste looked back and forth between them. "Having a tiff?" 

            "It's nothing," Gerde assured her. Gabriel grunted his agreement. 

            Oddly enough, it was true. All tension drained out of them instantly. 

             _Weird. _ 

            "Celeste, I've been meanin' to ask you somethin'," Gabriel said. "You were sayin' that you're graduatin' this year, right?" 

            "Yeah. Skipping a coupla grades'll do that to a girl." 

            "I was wondering', if it's okay with Gerde, here, if you'd like to come back for the summer?"

            "Like to?" Celeste was almost bouncing on her toes. "I'd love to! Is it okay, Gerde?" 

            Looking curiously at Gabriel, Gerde said, "It would be my pleasure." 

            "Great!" Celeste kissed Gabriel on the forehead, then threw her arms around Gerde. "This is so cool! Wait until I tell Mom!" She ran excitedly out of the room. 

            "That was weird." 

            Gerde nodded her agreement. 

            Their gazes locked for a full minute. 

            They both laughed. 

* * *

            Gabriel Knight was a very handsome man, even confined to a hospital bed. Thick blond hair, newly cropped, framed a chiseled face containing the most gorgeous green eyes and the most sensual lips ever to be found on a man. The curve of his cheekbones and the lines of his neck were alluring. Even broken as it was, his body was muscular and wonderful to behold. To complete the picture, a ready wit, sense of humor, and an effortless charm pervaded his very being. 

             _And he wants me back, _ Celeste thought happily.

  
  


* * *

            "Come to say goodbye, Gran?" Gabriel asked affectionately. 

            Gran stood just inside the doorway. Worry creased her face and she fidgeted awkwardly. It was so unlike her that Gabriel tried to sit up. His hiss of pain captured her attention. 

            "Lie still, boy! Don't you have any sense?" 

            "What's wrong… Gran?" he managed, gasping. 

            "There's something I need to tell you, Gabriel," she said, reluctantly. 

            "Well? What is it?" 

            "Don't you take that tone with me, young man!" she admonished him. 

            "Sorry, Gran. You've got me worried 's'all," he apologized. 

            "Have you--" she started, "have you ever really _looked at Celeste?" _

            "Whaddya mean?" 

            "Does she look at all familiar to you?" 

            "I hadn't thought about it, but I guess so. What are you gettin' at, Gran?" 

            "Gabriel, a long while back a Marianne Ryan wrote you a number of letters, most of which you never opened." 

            "Marianne Ryan? Doesn't ring any bells." 

            Gran directed a very ugly look at him before continuing. "I remembered the name when I saw it in the newspaper some time back. She had married a Thomas Bradley." 

            "Yeah? And?" 

            Gran's look could have liquefied helium. "Have you noticed that Celeste _Bradley has your eyes?" _

            "Whut!?" Conflicting emotions washed through him, as did the pain of his outburst. Bewilderment chased denial, followed by perverse satisfaction, which was submerged almost immediately by embarrassment, which was shouldered aside by shame. Stark confusion took its place until guilt loomed up and told the others to take the day off. They refused, and formed a solid wall, constantly growing as more arrived. 

            The welter held him in silence until one thought penetrated and conquered all of the others. 

            "Does she know?" 

            "Which she?" 

            "Celeste!" he exploded. "Does she know?" Palpable agitation poured from him. 

            "I don't think so. I haven't told her." 

            "Gran, what do I do?" he wailed. 

            The plea for help, so uncharacteristic of Gabriel, surprised her so much that she actually thought about it for a while. 

            Finally, she said, "Gabriel, I love you, my boy, but some things you have to figure out on your own. Goodbye dear." 

            She brushed her lips against his cheek, squeezed his hand once, looked compassionately at his stunned expression, then left. 

            A final thought had taken control of Gabriel's mind and refused to let go. 

             _What's Gracie going to think about this? _


	9. Confessions

_ Rittersberg, three months later  _

            "Any word yet?" 

            "Gabriel!" Gerde shouted. "The answer is the same as it was the last thirty times!  _No! _ Now go away!" 

            Miffed, Gabriel turned his chair and rolled off. A cutting retort fleeted through his mind, but--  _Naw. She's put up with too much already.  _

The casts were off of his arm and one of his legs. The other cast was due to come off in another three weeks, the bones having been nearly shattered as opposed to just simply snapping as the others had done.  _Gawd. I feel like the Christmas turkey, here.  _

            The last three months had been harrowing, to say the least. Gabriel, usually so fiercely independent, had had to rely on Gerde for even the simplest of tasks.  _I can't even get dressed by myself with this freakin' hip brace on. _ The enforced helplessness had wrought changes, though. He was more thoughtful, more considerate, kinder. He was also more inclined to violent outbursts brought on by inactivity. 

            He flushed crimson at the memory of a particularly childish tantrum brought on by an overcooked dinner.  _Gerde was 'bout ready t' toss me in the oven. Can't say as I blame 'er.  _

            To distract himself, Gabriel thought about Grace. It wasn't a good choice.  _What an I gonna say t' her? I just know she's gonna ask me if I meant…what I said._  The problem was that Gabriel, himself, was unsure if he had meant his proposal.  _What if she wants t' get married? What if she  doesn't  _want to?_  Both possibilities were equally horrifying.  __It took me so long to realize that I love her, I can't lose her now, but. . . am I ready for in-laws? I never even had parents…Shit! I've gotta tell 'er 'bout Celeste, too!  _

            Gerde's voice cut into his agonized thoughts. "Gabriel! Grace is here!"  
  


* * *

            Grace came home. 

             _That's what it is._  

            She'd been raised in New York, had gone off to Yale, had lived in New Orleans, and had spent the last year with Chadrel, but Rittersberg was home. She made a decision then, but it would have to wait. 

            Grace stepped inside and set down the paper sack she was holding on a nearby table. 

            "Welcome back, Grace," Gerde said. She then turned her head and called, "Gabriel! Grace is here!" 

            "How's he holding up?" 

            "He has been driving me out of my head. He still can't walk and there are many things he cannot do for himself. It bothers him, so he bothers me." Gerde sighed. "I'm so glad you are here, now. Much longer and I would have locked him in his room and invested in earplugs." 

            Grace laughed. She saw Gabriel come in, then. He looked better than he had when she'd left, but the sight of him in a wheelchair was heart wrenching. It almost overwhelmed the shock of seeing him with short hair. Almost. 

            As cheerfully as she could manage, Grace said, "Speak of the devil and who should appear?" 

            "Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer," Gabriel retorted. "It's good to see you, Gracie." 

            "It's good to be home." The word hung in the air between them. 

            The held each others gaze for so long that Gerde was uncomfortable. 

            "Why don't you two go talk, hmm?" she interjected at last. 

            "I don't--" Gabriel began. 

            "Are you still on meds, Gabe?" Grace interrupted. 

            "No," he said, remembering her words about talking when he wasn't drugged, and wincing. 

            "Good." Grace picked up the sack that was resting on the table. "Your room, I think." 

            "All right," Gabriel agreed weakly. "The elevator's this way." 

            "After you." Grace made a sweeping gesture with one hand. 

            They were silent until the bedroom door closed behind them. 

            "Grace--" Gabriel tried. 

            "Hush," Grace responded. "I have something for you." She opened the bag and, with a flourish, set the contents on a small table. 

            Gabriel beheld the vision before him. "Two shot glasses and a coupla big green bottles. What's this, Gracie?" 

            "A shot of Jager for the Schattenjager," Grace said, turning one of the bottles so that "Jagermeister" was clearly visible on the label. "I wanted to celebrate." 

            "In that case. . . ." He snagged a bottle, opened it, and quickly poured two small shots. Lifting one, he said, "To comin' home!" and downed the alcohol. 

            Grace met his eyes for the briefest moment, then grinned widely and tossed hers back, as well. 

            There was a soft knock on the door. Grace answered it to find Gerde holding a tray. 

            "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought this." 

            Grace took the plate of cheese and crackers and smiled sincerely. "Thank you. This is perfect." 

            "Enjoy your evening, then." Gerde looked meaningfully at Grace, then left, closing the door behind her. 

            "Have a cracker," Grace said, placing the platter on the table next to the bottles. 

            "Thanks." Gabriel took two and a slice of cheese. "So," he mumbled, chewing, "tell me 'bout what you've been doin'." 

            Grace talked about her experiences and training for awhile. Gabriel listened attentively, asking relevant questions. 

            After the seventh shot he said, embarrassed, but just drunk enough not to let it stop him, "Gracie, I'll need to get in bed before I'm too drunk to lift myself."

            "Okay." 

            They stared at each other, blinking to keep focused. 

            "Did you need help?" Grace asked after a bit. 

            "Unfortunately, yeah." 

            "Okay." 

            With a great deal of effort Grace managed to assist Gabriel out of his chair and into bed. 

            Collapsing next to him, she said, "Did I hurt you?" 

            "Naw. I'm okay. Sorry." 

            "'S'okay. I'm here to help." 

            "Help me to another drink?" 

            "Sure." 

            Four shots and two minutes later they lay together on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

            "Gracie?" 

            "Hmm?" 

            "I've missed ya." 

            "Mmmm. Me too." 

            "Need to tell you sumthin'." 

            "Hmm?" 

            "'Member Celeste?" 

            "Uh-huh." 

            "I think she's my daughter." 

            A glass shattered against a wall.  
            "Shit." 

            "Gracie, I didn't know. . ." 

            "Shit!" 

            "Grace?" 

             _"Shit!"_  

            "Gracie! Talk to me!" 

            Silently she flung herself off of the bed and out the door. 

             _"Dammit!" _ Gabriel slumped in bed, reviewing the evening in his head. 

             _How else was I supposed t' say it? Maybe if I'd waited? Naw. She'd hate me if I didn't tell her right away._

            _She hates me anyway. _

            _Shit. You stupid piece of…  _

            The door opened, unraveling his thoughts in mid-denouncement. Grace lurched inside, carrying a whisk broom and dustpan. She set about cleaning up the broken glass. She kept missing. 

            "Gracie, you're too drunk. Leave it for t'morrah." 

            "It's not safe to leave broken glass just layin' aroun--  _ouch! "_

            "See wha' I mean?" 

            "Guess so." Sucking her cut finger, she weaved her way back to the bed and plopped down. "So drink." She blinked. "Talk. I'll drink. Where's yer glass?" 

            He passed it to her, carefully poured her a shot, recapped the bottle, and dropped it onto his chest. Taking a deep breath, he told Grace everything he knew. It didn't take long. 

            "You mad?" he asked after some time had passed in silence. 

            "Uh, no. Don't think so." 

            "Good." 

            "Gabe?" 

            "Yeah?" 

            "As long as we're tellin' secrets, I need t' tell you one." 

            He turned to look at her. She seemed worried. He poured her a drink. "Here ya go. What's up?" 

            She swallowed quickly. "Remember von Glower?" 

            Gabriel froze. "How could I forget?" 

            "He sent you a letter. With the talisman." She tapped the gold on his bare chest thoughtfully. 

            "I never gave it to you. I guess I jus' didn't want to lose you." 

            Refilling the glass, for himself this time, Gabriel asked, "Where is it?" 

            "I burned it." 

            The full glass made a spectacular display as it shattered in the fireplace. "You  _whut!? "_

            They tried to stare at each other but fuzzy, drunken eyes refused to cooperate. Unable to hold it any longer, they both exploded with laughter. 

            "Oh, that hurts," Grace said, holding her ribs. 

            "Tell me 'bout it," Gabriel responded. 

            They laughed again. 

            "Stopstopstop. I'm drunk." 

            "So'm I." 

            With the hilarity of the truly inebriated, the laughed again. 

            "Ow!" Grace chuckled. "Make me stop. This hurts." She fell, sprawling, full length on the bed. She rested her head on Gabriel's shoulder. "Nice. . ." she mumbled. 

            Gabriel put his arm around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Um-hmm," he agreed. 

            They lay like that for awhile, calming down. 

            "Gracie?" Gabriel asked at least.

            "Yeah?" 

            "Why dincha gimme the letter?" 

            "Di'n' wancha t' leave me." 

            "Didja think I would?" 

            "Runnin' 'round, no worries. . . . Soun's like your thing." 

            "Gracie? I'm no killah. Had t' sumtimes, but hate it." He turned his head and kissed her hair. It smelled good. "Ah'm a lovah, not a fightah." 

            They both giggled.

            "Not anymore, though," he said, suddenly serious. "I need a drink." 

            "We're outta glasses. Drink from the bottle." 

            Gabriel opened the bottle and took a long drink--or tried to, anyway. He missed his mouth and poured it liberally on his neck and chest. 

            "Shit!" 

            Grace giggled. "You're a mess, Gabe." 

            "Couldja get me a towel or sumthin'?" 

            "No." Grace rose over him, then leaned down and licked a trickle of liquid from his chest. 

            "Let me get it." 

            "Gra--" 

            She clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shh. This is my turn." Keeping his mouth closed with one hand, she lapped up the fluid on his neck. He moaned. 

            "Still want a drink?" She picked up the bottle. It was nearly empty. Grace poured the last of the Jagermeister into her mouth, then pressed her lips to Gabriel's. 

            He opened his mouth and swallowed, the sting of the alchohol mixing with the sweetness of her kiss. 

            "Gracie, you're dru--" he tried again, only to be cut off by her mouth on his again. 

            "Tolja. This's for me." She pulled off her clothes and straddled his chest.  
            Looking at her naked body, mind afire, Gabriel felt the wrenching lack of physical response.  
             _Gawd she's beautiful, _ he thought.  _Maybe I can prove somethin' to her. Either she'll know I love 'er, or she'll be disappointed and leave me. Whichever it is, at least it'll be settled.   
            _Giving in to her silent demands, he raised his hands to her, cupping one around a breast and trailing the other down her spine.


	10. The aftermath

            Grace awoke to sunshine splitting into her head like a chisel. Invisible weights pressed on her, and a foul taste sat in her mouth. She groaned and turned her head the other way. The view did not improve. 

            Gabriel lay next to her, one arm crooked over his eyes, the other-- 

            She followed the line of his arm, and realized what the weight was from. 

            The other hand was casually cupping the inside of her thigh. Dangerously high up. 

             _Huh. Even asleep he's a letch._  

            Lifting his hand, Grace got up, then stopped dead.

             W_hy am I not wearing any clothes?_  

            She looked closely at Gabriel. 

             _He's still got his pants on,_  she thought, then,  _He looks a bit…sticky.  _

            A memory returned, faint, incomplete. 

             _Something about spilling the bottle…uh-oh. What did I do last night?_  

            A tiny part of her brain rebelliously whispered,  _last Knight?   She clamped it down firmly. _

             _A shower. _ That's what she needed. With any luck, he wouldn't remember either.

             _I hope._  

            She looked at him lying on the bed. He was still a stunning sight. 

             _Maybe I can just pretend it never happened. _  
  


* * *

            There was a faint noise, a muffled yelp, and a crash. 

            Gabriel woke with a start and, heart pounding almost as hard as his head, looked over at the source of the noise. 

            Grace stared back from where she had just dropped a dustpan of broken glass. 

            "Oh good. You're awake." She came over and wordlessly helped him hop into his wheelchair. "Go get cleaned up. I'll get you some breakfast." She left. 

            Gabriel stared after her. He shrugged then and rolled off to follow her directions. 

             _She's still here, that's somethin'. She's actin' real weird though. Wonder if she's reconsidered what she said last night?_  

* * *

            Grace entered the kitchen to find Gerde nibbling a pastry. 

            "Are there any more of those?" Grace asked. 

            Gerde nodded and, not meeting Grace's eyes, silently pointed out a plate of croissants and danishes. There was also a glass pitcher full of what looked to be grape juice and a pot of coffee. 

            "Great." Grace poured a glassful of juice and sipped it. "You're quiet this morning, Gerde." 

            Gerde shrugged, keeping her eyes on her pastry. 

            "What's wrong?" 

            Gerde shook her head, shoulders shaking. 

            "Gerde? Are you crying? What's the matter?" 

            In a quavering voice, Gerde said, "I trust you had a pleasant evening?" 

            She was unable to hold back any longer. Chest heaving, eyes streaming tears, Gerde broke out in convulsive laughter. 

            "What?" Grace implored. "I was drunk! I don't remember anything! Tell me!  _Please!_  What?" 

            "'I love you, Gabe!'" Gerde snorted. "'Don't stop! I love you!'" Laying her head on her arm and pounding the table with one fist, Gerde gasped for breath. 

            Grace was mortified. "Gerde? Please tell me you're joking!"

            Shaking her head, still laughing, Gerde said, "Oh, Grace! You are a noisy one, aren't you?"  Giggling, she added, "I didn't think that Gabriel had it in him." 

            "Gerde! Don't say anything to Gabriel. Please?" 

            Smirking, Gerde only said, "Get ready for guests, Grace. Celeste--remember her?--and Gabriel's friend Franklin Mosely are coming this afternoon." Still giggling hysterically, Gerde walked out. 

            Grace said something unpleasant.  
            

* * *

            Plunking down a tray covered with pastries, tableware, coffee, and juice, Grace produced a small bottle from her pocket. 

            "Here," she said, unceremoniously dropping some pills in front of Gabriel. "If your head is anything like mine, you'll need these." 

            "Thanks." He looked at her. She looked away. 

            After swallowing the pills he took a swig of coffee. Turning his head quickly, he saw Grace staring at him. She looked away again. 

            "What's wrong?" he asked, reaching for her hand. She pulled it away and took a glass of juice. 

            "Gracie." 

            Without looking at him, Grace said, "Mosely and Celeste are coming in today." 

            "Somehow I don't think that's the answer to my question." 

            She moved back to the pile of broken glass. 

            "Gracie?" She ignored him. 

            "Grace?" He was right behind her now. "I thought you might, y'know, wanna stay with me, after last night an' all." 

            Any large pieces of glass that remained shattered as she dropped them again. 

            Turning on him furiously, she barked, "The last thing I remember was not having any glasses left after we broke them! I don't know what happened last night, but whatever it was, it was a mistake!" She made to leave, but Gabriel caught her hand. The harder she pulled away the tighter he held. 

            "Grace, please. Talk to me?" 

            "You're hurting me." 

            He let go immediately. "Don't go, Grace?" He gestured toward the breakfast tray. "Why don't we eat. We can talk later." 

            "Fine." She stormed back, sat down, and began grimly dissecting a croissant. 

            Gabriel gave her a sidelong look, then rolled up next to her and snagged a danish. 

            After eating in silence for several minutes, Gabriel said, "So what was Gerde laughin' about? I could hear her up here." 

            Grace choked. Gabriel made a move toward her, but she fended him off. "Nothing. Not a thing," she said, finally. 

            "Oooooooo-kay." He knew enough to drop the matter. 

            More minutes passed. 

            "What's your favorite color?" 

            "What?" Grace was confused. "Why?" 

            "No reason. Just makin' conversation." Gabriel contrived to look innocent. "It just struck me that I've known you for over three years now, and I don't know your favorite color." 

            Grace opened her mouth to protest, but then realized she couldn't think of a single reason not to answer. "Green," she said at last. 

            "Huh." Green eyes shining, Gabriel said, "I've always liked black, myself." He gently brushed a strand of her soft, black hair from her cheek. 

            "You wore green the night of the opera, didn't you? I remember that." 

            "Yeah." She gave a swiftly smothered giggle. "And you wore red. I was scared out of my mind when I saw you on stage." 

            "You had a right to be." He took a gulp of coffee. "Gracie? What were you afraid of me seein' in that letter?" 

            "I don't want to talk about it." All the warmth faded away. 

            "I deserve to know, Grace." 

            "What difference does it make?" 

            "None. That's why I want to know." 

            She stared blankly at him. "That made no sense." 

            "I know."

            Grace couldn't help herself. Laughing loudly, she told him what she remembered of it.     

* * *

            "I decided when I came back yesterday that I was going to tell you about the letter. I just didn't know how." Grace looked sheepish. "I kept if from you at first because I didn't want you to be tempted. I got rid of it later because I didn't want to remind you." 

            "You were worried I'd go that way because he admitted he used me and he was lonely?" 

            "It was the way he said it. It was so sad. _I_ almost wanted to go with him. I didn't think you needed to have trouble with that, too. Then, like I said, I just wanted you to be able to forget about it."

            "I never really forgot, you know. It's always right there. Gracie," he met her eyes, "it scares the shit outta me." 

            "What was it like, Changing?" 

            Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'll make you a deal. I'll answer that if you'll answer a question for me." 

            "What question?" 

            "Nope. You either agree or not, but you don't get a preview." Gabriel smirked. 

            "Then I get two questions, one of which you don't know." 

            They had moved gradually closer to each other through the exchange, any closer would involve touching. Grace backed away. "I get both of mine first," she added. 

            "Fair enough. What do you want first?" 

            "What was the Change like?" 

            He sighed. I don't remember a lot of it," he began, "but I'll try." He downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp. "At first it's like--have you ever had the flu? Where you're so sick that you're constantly fighting not to throw up? It was kinda like that, only a lot worse, and if you lost you didn't just throw up, you Changed. 

            "When the moon came up, or with that music playin', there was no fight. It was lost from the start. Then--well, when I was in the hospital I thought I was Changin'--it hurts that bad. It feels like havin' every bone in your body break, havin' your hair pulled out, and bein' set on fire. . . all at once. There's no real way to say what it feels like to have every muscle get up and move." His eyes were shadowed, his shoulders hunched in remembered misery. "It was horrible, watchin' things  _move  under my skin, like there were snakes or somethin' inside me, crawlin' around, tryin' to get out. _

            "After if was over, I don't remember that much. Everythin' I remember is a feelin', not anythin' that happened. I remember feelin' trapped, an' I remember feelin' hungry. I remember that smell was everythin'--I could  _see_  in smells. I  _don't _ remember what they looked like, but I know that it did happen. I remember wantin' to run, and not bein' able to, and I remember wantin' to hunt. I remember wantin' to kill. I remember wantin' to rip out someone's throat, I remember wantin' to rip  _your _ throat out--" he broke off, horrified at how real the memories were, even after two years of trying to put them behind him. 

            Without his noticing, Grace had taken his hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze then wordlessly poured him more coffee. He gave her a wan smile and drank gratefully. 

            Two cups later, Grace said, "You still owe me one more answer, Gabriel." 

            "A deal's a deal. Be gentle with me." His grin looked rather forced. 

            "What happened last night? I don't remember anything after you broke your glass." 

            Staring into his cup, he only said, "Are you sure you want to know?" 

            "No, but tell me anyway." 

            "Do you want details? Or just a general overview?" 

            "The latter, if you please."

            "Do you wa--" 

            "Gabriel," she warned. He laughed. 

            "Gracie, to put it mildly, you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer." 

            "But--how could--you're still hurt!" 

            Gabriel licked his lips and smiled sensually. "Yeah." 

            Grace blushed. She considered the implications and blushed harder. "Seeing as I don't think I could be anymore embarrassed than I am right now, what did I say? You mentioned that I said something. What was it?" 

            "You said that you didn't want to lose me." Capturing one of her hands, he added, "You said that you love me." 

            Reclaiming her hand, Grace asked, "Did I say anything else?" 

            "Yeah." His voice held a tinge of wounded pride. "But that falls under the details that you don't want to know." 

            "I don't know how I feel, Gabriel. I obviously care--otherwise I wouldn't be here--but there are times I don't want anything to do with you. Just, I don't know, leave me alone for a while." She moved to leave, but Gabriel stopped her. 

            "We made a deal, Gracie. You've had your two, I get a question now." 

            Fighting off simultaneous urges to sob, slap him, and hold him, Grace said, "Fair enough." 

            "I know I've been a real jackass to you. A pig. Hell, a whole menagerie, but there's one thing I need to know--how can I make it up to you?" 

            Grace was speechless for a long moment. "That was a low blow, Gabe." Seeing the smirk dawning on his face, she quickly went on, "I don't know what you can do, but," she smirked, herself, this time, "when I do you'll be among the first to know."  
            Before her common sense could even sense what was happening, instinct kicked in, and Grace was kissing Gabriel. It went on for some time, Gabriel's hands in her hair, Grace caressing his face. 

            When she finally broke off, she announced, "Asking was a step in the right direction, though."  
  



	11. Discussions

            It was a peaceful summer evening. The delightful aromas from Gerde's efforts in the kitchen wafted through the stone passages of Schloss Ritter. The setting sun turned the sky into a glory of reds and golds and violets. 

            The gentle murmur of birds roosting for the night came to an abrupt halt as Mosely's shouted, "Again!" echoed through the ancient turrets. 

            "Could you say that a little louder, Mose?" came Gabriel's dry voice. "I don't think they heard you back in New Orleans." 

            "Jeez, Knight. How do you do it? Even when you can't walk and you can't… well…" 

            Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he said menacingly. 

            "You, uh, you can't, can you?" 

            "There's more than one way to please a woman, Mose." 

            After a bit, having gotten no response but a blank look, Gabriel said, "Don't make me spell it out for you." 

            "Ohhh. I get it." He winked. "So do you, apparently." 

            "Shut up,  _Mostly ._ It wasn't like that." 

            "What was it like? And who's next on your list of conquests? That blonde housekeeper of yours? She's a fine lookin' lady." 

            "Shut up." 

            "You trip every woman you know into bed with you, Gabe. You always have. Even if you can't use your legs." 

            "Shut up!" 

            "Who's next, then? That cute little Celeste?"

            Mosely wasn't expecting it, so Gabriel's thrown punch landed squarely on his jaw. "Just shut the hell up, Franklin." 

            "You don't  _ever  call me Franklin." His fist lashed out and caught Gabriel with a vicious right hook. "That's for hittin' me, ya wanker. Now what's got your panties in a bunch? It's gotta be somethin' pretty big if you hit me and call me  _Franklin. "_ _

            Nursing his aching face, Gabriel said, "I asked Grace to marry me." 

            There was a pause. Gabriel looked up finally to see Mosely staring at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Gabriel Knight?" 

            "I'm serious, Mose!" 

            "So'm I. You're not exactly the marryin' kinda guy, if you see what I'm gettin' at. What did she say?" 

            "I asked her when I was in the hospital. I was on morphine. She wouldn't give me an answer." 

            "Then what's the problem? You're off the hook." 

            "I think I  _want  to marry her." _

            Mosely said nothing. When Gabriel looked at him, it was because Mosely was sitting down, eyes blank, mouth agape. This was just too much for him to handle in one day. 

            "Mose?" He didn't move. "Mosely?" 

            "You  _think!? _ You don't even know? Dammit, Gabe, you are the biggest shithead on the whole damn planet!" 

            "You don't think I know that? Hear me out. There're two big problems with this thing. Say I ask her. What if she says yes? Have you met her mother? The woman's a nutcase. I don't know if I can deal with that." 

            "What's the other thing," Mosely asked. "You said there were two." 

            "Hell, right now Grace doesn't know if she wants to kiss me or kill me." 

            "Probably both." Mosely thought for a bit. "Maybe you could try gettin' her drunk again." 

            "Mosely, it's that kind of advice that got me _into_ this situation." 

            "I don't know what to tell ya then. I'll be around for a while if you want to talk. I'm gonna be in Europe for a few months, building up a contact base." 

            "Yeah. You can stay here when you're around." 

            "Thanks. Hey! Since you're a one woman man now an' all--Celeste is a hottie, ain't she?" 

            "Shut up, Mosely. Anyway, she's only sixteen." 

            "Really? She doesn't look it. She's got the perkiest little--" 

            "Shut up!" 

            "What's gotten into you, Knight?" 

            "I used to see her mother." 

            "Oh. The whole agein' thing gettin' to ya?" 

            "Mosely. I was  _with  her  _mother _ about seventeen years ago." _

            "Wow. And you still remember?" 

            "Mosely! Listen to what I am sayin'! Seventeen years ago I slept with her mother. Celeste is sixteen. Does anythin' about her seem familiar to you?" 

            "She's got the nicest green eyes-- _oh_ _hell ." He looked at Gabriel's own green eyes. Gabriel nodded, slowly. "Well. I see why you hit me."  
  
_

* * *

            Dinner was… interesting. Grace and Gabriel exchanged furtive looks, then would look away in embarrassment until it happened again. 

            Mosely watched the two of them in shock, then watched Celeste. Also in shock. 

            Celeste looked wonderingly at everyone--wondering if they had all gone insane. 

            Gerde just kept her head down rather than burst out laughing. Occasionally, small squeaking noises could be heard coming from her direction. 

            No one said much for a long while. 

            Unable to take the quiet anymore, Celeste spoke. "You know, I've been having the weirdest dream lately." 

            Everyone stared at her. 

            "Oh? What about?" Gabriel asked. 

            "It starts with this little seed. It falls into this really gross patch of ground and gets buried, but this really  _gold  light shines on it and it grows into a tree. It starts small, but it gets bigger and taller until it's just  _huge ._ _

            "Then the light goes away and storms come and lightning hits it and all the branches start to fall off until there's just one left. Then it starts drying out and cracking and it looks like it's gonna fall off too, but then the light comes back. 

            "The last branch gets stronger and puts out leaves. That's when I see that the branch is now the top of the tree and then it sends out a branch of its own." She calmly resumed eating. 

            Gabriel looked towards Grace to find her looking at him. He shrugged. She blinked once and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. He glanced at Celeste out of the corner of his eye, looked back at Grace, shrugged again, and nodded slightly at her. She lifted one eyebrow, glanced at Celeste, back to Gabriel, and moved her head slightly in assent. 

            "Do you," Grace asked, "have dreams like this often?" 

            "All the time," Celeste said. "That's nothing compared to some dreams I've had. Growing up I had a recurring nightmare about some guys executing a woman and this big gold medallion thingy. It was more complicated that that, but those stopped a few years ago. That and the tree have been the only recurring dreams, though." 

            Gabriel and Grace exchanged looks again. Grace raised her eyebrows expectantly. Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, shrugged, smiled wryly, and nodded. 

            "In your dream," he said, "did that medallion look anything like this?" He reached into his shirt and pulled out the talisman. 

            "Let me see that!" She was at his side in an instant, and nearly decapitated him as she yanked the chain so it cut into his neck. "This it is!" she screeched. "But why did I dream about your necklace?" 

            "We need to talk." Waving a hand for her to precede him, Gabriel and Celeste left the room. 

            The three remaining looked at each other is silence for a moment. They picked at their plates. 

            "Hey, Grace," Mosely said eventually, "can we go and talk somewhere?" 

            "Uh, sure. Okay. Let's go." They wandered off. 

            Gerde sat alone at the table. "I guess no one wants dessert, then."  
  


* * *

            Once out of the dining room, Gabriel took the lead. Celeste sauntered behind him, watching him closely. 

            "Where are we going?" she asked as they entered the elevator. 

            "The library," he answered. 

            "Cool. I don't think I've been there before." She paused. "I don't think I know anybody who even  _has  a personal library." _

            "You haven't and I don't think anybody else has a library like this one." 

            "Oh? What's so special about it?" 

            "You'll see." 

            Silence resumed. Celeste studied Gabriel's every move intently as they approached his bedroom door. He was oblivious to her observation. 

            "Watch your step," he said. "There might still be some broken glass on the floor." 

            "Why?" 

            "I broke a glass." His tone invited no further question. 

            "Oh."

            As Gabriel unlocked the door, Celeste took the opportunity to look at his room. She took in the fireplace, the remnants of breakfast-- _two plates --_the antique armoire, the case on the wall with some old paper in it-- _looks like parchment, maybe --and the rumpled bed. _

            She let her mind linger hormonally on that image until she was brought back to reality by Gabriel inviting her in. 

            Entering his inner sanctum, she was struck by the juxtaposition of old and new. Ancient manuscripts were side by side with Gabriel's own published works. A rotary phone and manual typewriter shared a desk with a compact laptop. Beautiful old oil paintings hung on the walls, adjacent to modern prints. 

            "This is incredible!" She walked over to inspect a strange painting of snakes crawling out of a skull when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look, she saw the talisman spinning lazily on the computer screen. 

            "There's that dream necklace again. What's up with that, and why is it your screen saver?" 

            "Have a seat," Gabriel said, "and let me fill you in on some things." She complied. 

            "It all started," he began, "back in New Orleans. Dead bodies were showin' up with their hearts cut out and what looked like Voodoo paraphernalia around them. I thought it would make a good plot for a book, so I started lookin' into it." 

            Celeste listened to his story with growing fascination. And suspicion.  
  


* * *

            "I'm worried 'bout Gabe," Mosely was saying. He and Grace were ensconced in her room. 

            Grace sat with her hands clasped in her lap. She seemed intent on her fingernails, inspecting them minutely rather than meet Mosely's gaze. 

            "He'll be fine. The casts should all be off in a month or so. A couple months of physical therapy and you'll never know he was hurt." 

            "I'm not talkin' 'bout that and you know it! I've never seen him like this before." 

            "Like what?" Grace was now scrutinizing the veins in her wrists. "He's pretty much the same as always." 

            Mosely noticed at last that Grace wasn't looking at him. "How would you say he's acting?" he asked, observing her closely. 

            Tracing a design on the palm of her hand, she answered, "Like an infuriatingly charming jerk. Normal." 

            "Grace?" 

            "Hmm?" 

            He took her hands, startling her into looking up. "Grace, he's got a kid he never knew, he can't walk, he can't. . . ya know. . . " he looked down and coughed. "Anyway. He can't. . . do that. . . and he's asked you to marry him. You think he's actin'  _normal? " _

            Grace sighed, squeezed his hand once and pulled away. "Mose, what do you want me to say?" 

            "I want you to say you're not seriously considerin' marryin' him!" He stopped, appalled. 

            "Mose?" This was out of character enough that she snapped into focus. He was standing a few feet away with his back turned to her. He was so tense that he was shaking. Grace rose and padded up behind him. She touched his shoulder lightly. He flinched away. 

            "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice gentle. No response. "Tell me," she entreated. 

            "It's just…" Frustration radiated from him. 

            "Just what?" 

            "You deserve better." 

            Giving him a mental shove, she said, "Better than Gabriel?" 

            "Hell, yeah, better than Gabe! You deserve somebody who respects you. Somebody who knows how special you are!" 

            "Somebody like you?" 

            "Ye--no! No. Somebody you care about. Not some loser." He sat, dejected. "Not me." 

            Grace didn't respond. There was nothing she could say.

* * *

            Celeste was not a stupid girl. Far from it. She could put facts together with suspicions and come up with certainties. This, however, was a very big jump to make. What she had just heard had shocked her to the core. 

            "You're telling me that your uncle ripped his heart out?! By himself?!" 

            Gabriel winced. "Uncle Wolfie was an exceptional guy," he explained. "That's not somethin' I'd like to linger on, if y'don't mind." 

            "Sorry. Go on." 

            "Right." He finished his tale quickly. 

            "Well," Celeste said after a few minutes of restless silence. "That explains the talisman. It doesn't explain why  _I'm  dreaming about it." _

            "Ah. Yeah. I've been meanin' to say somethin' about that." He stopped, obviously uncomfortable. Occasionally he would start to speak, but he never managed more than a syllable. 

            Celeste stared at him for a time. Finally, pity overcame her. "Let me guess," she said at last. "That talisman is an heirloom for you family, so to speak. From the time Gunter lost it to the time you found it every Ritter has dreamed about it. You recovered it about three years ago. I stopped dreaming about it three years ago." She smiled. Actually, she bared her teeth. "My, how the coincidences pile up. Given the fact that Mom met Dad because he was a nurse in the hospital when she had me, I'm led to the conclusion that you're the son of a bitch that got her pregnant and left her." She batted her eyelashes coyly. "Am I right?" 

            Gaping at his entirely too intelligent daughter, Gabriel couldn't respond for a while.  
  


* * *

            After a time, Grace approached and laid a hand on Mosely's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't pull away. She brought up her other hand and began to massage knotted muscles. 

            "I'm sorry," she said simply, after some of the tension had drained away. 

            "Why?" His voice was flat. 

            "For being so callous." She laughed humorlessly. "Ha. I took lessons from the master." 

            "Master what?" His dry tone echoed her own. 

            "Well, seeing as he's always leaving his little traps around, ready to catch anyone willing to take the bait, I guess you could say he's the master baiter." 

            He gave a surprised snort. She giggled. He laughed at her, then they were both laughing hysterically, utterly heedless of the stupidity of her remark. The tension drained as pent up emotions were harmlessly released, both of them clinging to each other for support as they gasped for breath. 

            The mood around them was much more comfortable after the last of the chuckles died away. 

            "Grace?" Mosely said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Can I ask you somethin'?" 

            "You just did," she said, smiling warmly, "but go ahead." 

            "Do you love him?" 

            She sobered immediately. "I--I think so, yes. Sometimes." 

            "Sometimes," he repeated, incredulous. "I don't get that." 

            "Well," she tried, "the rest of the time, I want to kick him." She started to laugh, but stopped as Mosely stared at her. "It's weird, but--let me try to explain." 

            "Okay," he said, resettling in his chair. "This I've got to hear." 

* * *

            "Well?" Celeste persisted. "Am I right?" 

            "I can't deny it," Gabriel responded at last. He was still astounded by the speed with which Celeste-- _my daughter! _--worked out solutions. It took him far longer than that to jump to conclusions, and with far more to go on. He felt a surge of perverse pride. He went on, "It certainly sounds like I'm your father." 

            Her green eyes went icy. "No. Let's get one thing straight. My  _father _ was Thomas Bradley. He married Mom and adopted me when I was a year old.  _You  just enabled me to be born. Nothing more. Ever." _

            To his surprise, Gabriel felt intimidated by the menace in her words. There was something very frightening in the air around Celeste. "I'm not tryin' to take your father's place. I'm just statin' a biological fact." 

            The aura of anger faded. "I know. It was a long time ago. Still," she eyed Gabriel suggestively, "I can tell what Mom saw in you." She advanced on him. 

            Gabriel felt suddenly frozen in place. He tried to back away from the disturbing figure bearing down on him, but he couldn't move. As she leaned over him he felt his head move involuntarily upward, as if someone were physically forcing him. He had never felt so helpless before in his life. 

            Celeste brushed his lips with her own. As they touched, there was a surge from the talisman around his neck. Celeste gave a startled cry as she was shoved backwards, and Gabriel felt control flood back into his paralyzed muscles. 

             _"What the fuck?!" _ he shouted. 

            Celeste was huddled against the desk, sobbing. Gabriel made a move towards her. As he neared her he was engulfed in a nearly tangible cloud of misery and self-hatred. Shaking his head, fighting off tears, he backed away. The feeling stopped. 

            "What the fuck?" he repeated, this time in bewilderment.  
  


* * *

            "Well?" 

            "Give me a minute," Grace said. "This is hard to say. Maybe if I got the bad things out of the way first." 

            "How long were ya plannin' on takin'? I can only stay here for a coupla weeks." 

            "Very funny." She tried glaring at him, but couldn't keep a straight face. "Okay, okay. His  _major  bad points." _

            "My point still stands." 

            Grace looked for something to throw at him. Not finding anything convenient, she sighed. "He's a self-centered, egotistical, scheming jerk. He takes me for granted. He pushes all of the work he finds boring onto me and excludes me from anything exciting that happens. He rushes into situations without thinking and somebody--usually me--has to rescue him. He drives me crazy sometimes! 

            "On the other hand, though. . . he make me laugh. He's impetuous, but it adds to his charm--spontaneity works! He looks too good by half. Maybe more than half. He genuinely cares about people when he bothers to think about them, and he'll go to enormous effort to help someone after he gets started. He may not be the nicest man, but he's got a good heart. He's passionate, and vibrant, and full of  _joie de vive ._

            "Also, he's really…talented, if that makes sense. Practice makes perfect, I guess. I've just never felt that  _good  before." _

            Mosely squirmed in discomfort as Grace, eyes closed, lips parted, reveled in her memories. He couldn't take it for long. "Uh. . . what about the way he makes you do all of his work?" 

            "That's just it," she said, refocusing. "He gives me the stuff he thinks is boring, but it's research, which I like. He does the grunt work and leaves me the cerebral part of it. We make a good team that way." 

            "But you said he excludes you?" Mosely tried to find something else to add. "And he takes you for granted?" 

            "Keeping me out of things is annoying, but it's more misplaced chivalry than anything else. He doesn't want me to get hurt. As for the other--do you know how he was hurt?" 

            "Yeah. He was goin' way too fast on his bike and hit a car." He rolled his eyes. 

            "Gerde told me that he was on his way to see me. To apologize." 

            "Seriously?" 

            "That's what she said." 

            "Then. . . I don't get it, Grace. If he's so reformed, what's holdin' you back?" 

            She didn't answer immediately. She was trying to think of a logical reason, herself. Defending Gabriel to Mosely made things clearer to her, but the reluctance was still inexplicably there. 

            At length she said, "I hate the way he talks to me, but I love the way he speaks to me. I hate the way he acts, but I love the things he does. I hate the way he can't function until he gets his morning coffee, but I love the look on his face when he drinks it. I hate the way he can make me feel, but I love the way he makes me  _feel ." _

            "He may be my friend," Mosely interrupted, "but I hate him for what he does to you." 

            A short, sharp scream cut off Grace's reply, followed by Gabriel's pained shout. Grace was out the door and running as Mosely stood up. 

            "Gabe, you jerk," he muttered to himself, trundling along in the wake of the vanished Grace.


	12. Soul searching

            Grace pounded to a halt. "What's wrong? What happened?"

            They were in Gabriel's bedroom, next to the library. Through the open doorway, Grace could just make out Celeste curled into a tight ball on the floor on the opposite side of the desk. Her choked sobs, on the other hand, were quite clear. 

            "Gabriel!" Grace said, as he stared at her in mute shock. 

            "I. . . I don't know." He looked up at her, all of hell in his eyes. "I can't get near her." 

            "What? Why not? You told her, right? That's why she's crying?" 

            "No," he started, but-- 

            "You didn't tell her?" Grace interjected. 

            "Yes! No. She guessed, but--" 

            "She guessed?" Mosely had just wandered in. 

            "Glad you could make it," Grace remarked.

            "Listen!" Wide-eyed, Gabriel looked back and forth between their stunned faces. He settled on Grace. "I can't get near her. I've tried, but I can't get through to her. Here." He pulled the talisman over his head. "Take this, just in case." He pressed it into her hand. 

            "In case of what?" she asked, but as soon as he let go he doubled over in anguish. Tears welled up and fell onto clenched fists. 

            Confused, not knowing what else to do, Grace touched the talisman to his quaking shoulder. He relaxed instantly. 

            Still breathing raggedly he said, in a quavering voice, "Don't worry about me. Make her stop before she kills us." 

            "Stop what?" 

            In lieu of answering, Gabriel convulsively shoved her away and coiled in pain once more. 

            Grace looked at the writhing figure in the wheelchair, then at the glinting metal in her hand, and finally at the pathetic figure that Gabriel claimed was the source of his pain. 

"Mose? Get him out of here." When he didn't move she bellowed, "Now!" He fired off a sarcastic salute and roughly shoved Gabriel away. 

            Grace dropped the chain of the talisman around her neck, then, visibly bracing herself, strode into the lion's den. 

* * *

            Gabriel slowly straightened up as he was removed from Celeste's presence. He still felt ragged around the edges, but his emotions were under some degree of control. 

            Mosely's first words did nothing at all to help his precarious state. "What the hell did you do to her, Knight?"

            "I didn't do anything to her," he replied, unsteadily. 

            "That's what you always say when you leave crying women around." Mosely snorted. "You are a grade A asshole, and never in my life have I been more tempted to push you down the stairs." 

            Under ordinary circumstances, Gabriel would have laughed. However, the sincerity of the threat combined with raw, wounded feelings drove him over the edge. 

            "Go ahead!" he screamed. The suicidal depression he had felt only moments before came back in full force. "Why not? Push me! Hell! You've got a gun, shoot me!" Mosely stepped back, alarmed. Gabriel went on. "Are you afraid you'll miss? I've got my dagger! I'll do it my own fucking self!" 

            Held in numb shock, Mosely watched as Gabriel, trembling, face red with fury, eyes blinded by tears, pulled away and headed for the stairs. Then he shook himself and, realizing that Gabriel meant it, ran after him. 

            He caught the chair about a foot from the top stair and pulled his friend back. 

            "What's wrong with you?" he asked. Gabriel only shook his head in response. 

            Mosely shrugged. "C'mon," he said. "We need a drink." 

            He took them back to the room he was staying in and dug out a whiskey flask. After taking a long pull he tossed the flask to Gabriel. It bounced off his arm and fell to the floor. 

            "Gabe? You're worryin' me, here." 

            There was no answer. 

            "Gabe?" 

            Gabriel's shoulders shook. A muffled sound came from him. 

            "Christ! Are you laughin' at me, Knight?" 

            Gabriel only shook, wordlessly. 

            "It's not funny." 

            A distinct sob emerged, quickly subdued. 

            "Shit! What the hell's the matter with you? You don't do this kinda thing!" 

            Gabriel finally spoke, choking on tears. "What did she do to me?"

            "I have no idea. Just… calm down." He had a thought. "Stay here, don't move. I'll go get you some water." 

            Gabriel nodded and Mosely left for the kitchen. Breathing deeply, Gabriel looked around the guest room Mosely was using. His eye fell on a table holding Mosely's wallet, keys, handcuffs. . . and his gun.  
  


* * *

            Celeste gradually became aware of a presence at her side. She looked up to see Grace, concern radiating from her, kneeling next to her. Celeste flung herself at Grace. 

            Upon finding a weeping girl in her arms, Grace did the only thing she could think of: she hugged Celeste tightly and murmured soothing sounds, all the while rocking her gently, like a baby. 

            Eventually, Celeste regained her composure. Embarrassed, she pulled back and apologized. 

            "Why?" Grace smiled. "I think it's my turn to listen." 

            Celeste returned the smile, tears of gratitude welling up in her eyes. 

            "Don't start that again," Grace admonished her teasingly. "We'll flood." 

            Celeste laughed weakly. "Sorry." 

            "It's okay. Want to talk? Tell me what happened?" 

            "Okay." Celeste sighed. "But you're going to hate me." 

            "Not likely." 

            "I was definitely in lust with Gabriel." 

            "Ah." Grace recovered rapidly. "That happens a lot around him. I can understand why you're upset." 

            "No. I'm upset because I still am." 

            Grace froze. "Oh." 

            "I told you that you'd hate me." Celeste tried to pull away. Grace stopped her. 

            "I don't hate you," she said. "It's just a little surprising. That's all. What did you do to him?" she asked. "He was as big a mess as you were." 

            Celeste blushed. "Well… you probably won't believe me, but… I'm an empath." 

            "A what?" 

            "I said you wouldn't believe me!" 

            "I believe you, I think," Grace said. "I just don't know what an empath is." 

            "Oh. Well then. I can feel how other people feel. Sometimes, I can make them feel what I feel. I'm not sure what happened this time." Celeste looked confused. 

            Grace  _felt _ confused. "What happened, exactly?" 

* * *

            Gabriel didn't know much about guns. This was some sort of automatic, and it looked loaded. He picked it up and weighed it thoughtfully. It was heavier than it looked. 

             _How many lives have I ruined? _ he thought in despair.  _How many kids do I have that I don't know about? How many women hate me? There's got to be a lot of them.  _

            Slowly, he put the barrel of the gun in his mouth. 

             _Sorry, Gracie._  

            His finger tightened around the trigger.  
  


* * *

            "I feel terrible," Celeste said. Grace nodded in sympathy. "I shouldn't have done it, I know." The girl was still quaking. "He just made me so mad. . . I think I went a little crazy." 

            "What happened?" Grace repeated. 

            "He told me the story of how he got the talisman. The dreams. . . it was obviously a family thing. It was never a secret that Dad wasn't my father, so it just fell into place. 

            "I'm sorry, Grace, but he's just too much to be true! I've been dreaming about him ever since I met him--just the thought of that gorgeous man… sorry," she apologized, abashed, at the look on Grace's face. Grace was disquieted, but kept her peace and motioned for Celeste to continue. She did. 

            "When he said,  _actually said , that he was my father, something just snapped. I mean, here's this guy I barely know, worse, that I've been  _fantasizing _ about for months, and he says he's my  _father! _ I was so mad--I just wanted to hit him, but then he backed down from me, and he looked so. …I dunno… __appealing.  _

            "I went for him. I  _wanted  him to hold still, and he did. I  __wanted  him to kiss me, and he lifted his head, just the way I needed him to, but I could feel him. He was panicking. He felt trapped. He felt disgusted. With me." Her eyes were closed, teeth clenched. "He felt revulsion at the thought of me! I hated him for that, right then. I wanted to kill him. I could feel his heart--it was racing--and I  __wanted  to stop it. I knew that when I kissed him, I would be giving him the kiss of death." Silent tears rolled down her raw cheeks. "Then I did kiss him. And I reached out with my mind to where I could feel his life pounding away… and I squeezed… I tried to kill him." _

            Loud cries broke out as she relived the memory. She gasped the rest out between sobs. "That's when…something…pushed me…away. And…then…I knew…I'd just tried…to kill…my  _father! " _

            Grace cautiously took Celeste in her arms. "Do you still want to kill him?" she quietly asked. 

            "Nooo," Celeste moaned. 

            "You're not the first person who's wanted to," Grace tried to joke. Celeste only cried harder. Sighing, Grace cuddled her close and tried to project calm. It was difficult. 

            After a while, Celeste wound to a halt. 

            "Feel better?" Grace asked her. 

            "No." Celeste smiled weakly as she answered. 

            Grace laughed softly. "Can you project to and control anyone?" she asked after a pause. 

            "No." Bafflement riddled Celeste's voice. "I can't project much, or to many people, and I've  _never  controlled anyone before." _

            "Who can you project to? I don't feel anything." 

            "I think I've figured out that only people with some sort of psychic thingy of their own can pick up on me. And Mom, but that's what moms do." 

            "Hmm. I wonder--" 

            Grace was unable to complete her thought. Right then, something that sounded like a gunshot echoed through the castle.  
  


* * *

            Mosely entered the room, carrying the promised glass of water. The sight that met him stopped him cold. 

            "Gabe?" he said softly. "What're you doin'?" 

            Gabriel froze. "Nuvvin," he mumbled. He tried to unobtrusively take the gun out of his mouth. 

            "Nothin', huh?" Mosely said, walking slowly towards Gabriel, like one might approach a wild animal. 

            "Go away, Mosely." Gabriel refused to look at him. Consequently, he didn't see Mosely until the gun was snatched from his hand. 

            "I don't think so, Knight. If I leave you alone with this you might remember to turn the safety off next time." 

            Gabriel look up then, slowly flushing a violent vermilion. "I'm goin' to my room," he announced, and turned to leave. 

            "Not yet, you ain't." Mosely slammed the door and leaned against it, gun still held loosely in one hand. He absently tucked it into his belt and folded his arms. "You're gonna tell me,  _right now,  what the hell's the matter with you." _

            "Why the hell should I? What difference does it make to you? 'Sides, you should be happy to be rid of me." Gabriel looked Mosely up and down and added maliciously, "If I'm outta the way, you just  _might _ have your chance with Gracie." 

            The proverbial snowflake fell; the branch snapped under the pressure. With a practiced ease, Mosely drew his weapon, released the safety, aimed, and fired.  
  


* * *

            Grace and Celeste went rigid at the sound. 

            "Was that a--" Celeste began, but another shot rang out. The sound rebounded along the ancient stones and achieved a majestic quality to which it had no right. 

            They were on their feet and out the door in a flash. 

* * *

            Gerde was on her way up the stairs. She knew that Gabriel hadn't eaten much at dinner, so when Franklin had come down to fetch a glass of water, and told her how upset Gabriel was, she decided to make a plate of sandwiches for them. 

            She heard a gunshot echo down the hall and she stopped, startled. Then she heard another. 

            She ran. 

* * *

            The three converged at the door to Mosely's room. Grace kicked the door open as a third shot was fired and ran inside. 

            She stopped. 

            Gerde and Celeste hurried in behind her, and nearly knocked the small woman over as they collided with her stiff form. 

            Gabriel was slumped motionless in his chair, Mosely standing near him, face contorted with rage, oblivious to the women behind him. 

            "Do you see now, dipshit!" he was yelling. "With the safety on--" he pulled the trigger. It didn't move. "Nothin'. With it off--" he flipped the switch and destroyed an innocent vase. He flipped the switch again. "On!" he shouted. 

            Before he could again demonstrate the effects of "off," Grace broke in. "What the fuck is going on here?" 

            Mosely froze. Gabriel jumped. Both turned to look at Grace, who was standing with her arms folded across her chest, flanked by an astonished Celeste and a furious Gerde. 

            "Why are you shooting that thing in here, Franklin?" Gerde demanded. 

            Mosely looked sheepish. "I, uh, I was…uh…" His color went from the red of anger to the red of embarrassment. He still resembled an overripe tomato. "I was just showin' Gabe how to shoot," he finished weakly. 

            "Inside? Are you crazy?" 

            "Well, uh…" he tried. 

            "Do you know how difficult it will be to repair this damage?" Gerde appeared to be rather less than understanding. 

            "Easier to fix than Gabe's head would be. If I hadn't come in, it would be smeared across the walls. Imagine cleaning up _that_ mess!" Mosely burst out. 

            The three women stared at Mosely, then, as one, turned to look at the flushing Gabriel. He cringed. 

            "Gabriel?" Grace asked, with artificial calm. 

            "Leave me alone," he said, miserably. 

            Grace removed the talisman from around her neck and held it in front of her. "I think you'll feel better with this back," she said, walking toward him. 

            He flinched a little, but stayed in place. As soon as Grace slipped the gold over his head the more destructive emotions fled, leaving only acute shame and embarrassment. 

            "What was I doin'?" he whispered. "I'm sorry." 

            "Gabriel," Grace said, "you need to have a talk with Celeste." 

            "No!" he cried. 

            Celeste winced at the terror in his voice. "I promise," she said tearfully, "I'll never _ever_ do that again." 

            "Gabriel, please?" Grace's chocolate colored eyes bored into his. He couldn't say no, not to that, not to her. 

            "Okay, Gracie." 

            She kissed him tenderly. "Go back to your room," she said. "I'll wait outside, in case you need me." 

            He nodded, dazed, and rolled off, feeling a tingle in his lips where she had touched him. Celeste and Grace followed him. 

            Mosely and Gerde looked at each other. After a while, Mosely said, "Sorry 'bout the mess. I'll clean it up." 

            Gerde continued to stare at him, then looked down at the forgotten plate in her hands. She held it out. "Hungry?" she asked.  
  


* * *

            Grace snagged a pillow and camped in the hallway while Gabriel and Celeste settled down to talk. 

            Identical green eyes met and retreated several times. Finally-- 

            "I'm sorry." 

            They looked at each other. They had spoken simultaneously. 

            "That was weird," they said, then stared at each other. 

            "Stop that!" Again, it was in unison. 

            It was too odd. They both laughed. The patterns of laughter were eerily alike. 

            Keeping his lips tightly pressed together, Gabriel gestured to Celeste to speak, then burst out laughing because Celeste had mirrored his movement. 

            "Miso soup and popcorn," Celeste said, still giggling. 

            "What?" 

            "I just wanted to make sure we wouldn't say the same thing again." 

            "It worked." They laughed again, far more relaxed with each other than either had thought possible only minutes before. 

            "It's your house," Celeste said after she could breathe again, "you first." 

            "What happened?" Gabriel asked her. "What did you do to me?" 

            Celeste stiffened, then sighed. "That's a fair question. As I told Grace earlier, I'm an empath." 

            "What's that?" he asked. 

            She explained it to him, then continued. "I was mad, I think you felt that." He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, after that, I don't know how I did it, but. . . I  _controlled  you." _

            He shuddered at the memory. "Yes, you did," he agreed. 

            "That's never happened before. I've only been able to project at other psychics, but I've never had such an  _involved  link before." _

            "You can only affect psychics?" Gabriel cut in. 

            "Well, Mom always knows how I feel but, like I told Grace, I think that's just a mom thing. They all do that, don't they?" 

            "I wouldn't know." Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "If it's not just a maternal instinct of some sort, if it has to do with… Does Gran ever pick things up from you?" 

            "I don--actually," she said, thinking back to a number of occasions where she had soothed Gran--like in the hospital, or when she first heard about Gabriel's accident--and times where she had gotten Gran excited about something that wouldn't normally interest her, "I think she has. Then that means--" 

            "That I got hit from both sides. Seein' as I'm related to you  _and _ have some of the family abilities, you might say--" 

            "That you're the most susceptible person in the world to what I might put out." 

            "Right." 

            "Right." 

            Their eyes met. "Didja notice," Gabriel began. 

            "That we just did it again?" Celeste finished. "Yes. I did." 

            They were silent again. 

            "Come here," Gabriel said suddenly. 

            Celeste jumped. "Why?" 

            "Because," he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mere." 

            She approached him cautiously. "How can you trust me?" she asked. 

            "You tell me." He took her hands and gently drew her closer. 

            "What are you doing?" she quavered. 

            He felt it. "I'm trustin' you," he said. He placed her hands on either side of his head. With a strong physical connection established, he dove into the quiet center of his mind and opened his thoughts to her. 

            She felt the flood of his feelings and memories roll over her and sank to her knees beside him from the pressure. Drowning in experiences from a life more than twice the length of her own, which was filled with more pain than she could have believed possible, Celeste dropped her carefully maintained guard. The flood now went both directions.  
  


* * *

            They surfaced, exhausted, gasping for breath. Gabriel was holding Celeste closely, the long, dark hair of her mother's trailing over his shoulder. Her face was buried in his neck, which was damp from her tears. They held each other for a long time in that manner. 

            Gabriel recovered first. "I'm sorry," he stated. "Your father was quite a guy, wasn't he?" 

            "Yes. He was." Celeste was still getting her breath back. 

            "There's something you need to hear:  _it wasn't your fault. " Celeste met his eyes, startled. _

            "It was cancer. It was nothing to do with you." 

            "But, but," she stammered, "I didn't hear him. I was supposed to help him. Mom was at work and I was supposed to be there and I wasn't. . . " She trailed off in fresh tears. 

            "Celeste," Gabriel hugged his estranged daughter to him, "believe me. He was sick. He was in pain. You, of all people, can't be around that. It's hard enough to watch someone you love in that kind of pain without feeling it yourself. You needed to be away from him. 

            "Even if you had heard him right away, you wouldn't have been able to help him. He was dying. You couldn't have changed that." 

            "But--" 

            "No." Gabriel stared into her eyes, so like his own. "It wasn't your fault." 

            Celeste clung to Gabriel for support, crying in renewed grief. He did his best to soothe her. 

            Thomas Bradley had died of a particularly malignant form of cancer. It had ravaged his body until it ate a hole in his lungs. He had drowned in his own blood, weakly calling out for his daughter. 

            Celeste had locked herself in her bedroom, trying to escape from the ever-present pain that washed out from her father. When she had heard his ghastly coughing at last, she ran for him, but by the time she had reached him he was dead, blood pouring from his open mouth, vacant eyes staring accusingly at her. 

            Two months later, Celeste and her mother had moved back to Marianne's parents' home in New Orleans. Celeste still had nightmares of her father. 

            That knowledge was fresh in their minds as they held each other.

            "You don't need to feel guilty over something you didn't even do," Gabriel told her. 

            "If that's true, then why do you feel guilty about Malia?" she responded, looking up at him soulfully. 

            He froze. "What do you mean?" 

            It was a silly question, he knew. Celeste had been in Gabriel's mind as deeply, if not _more deeply, than he had been in hers. What surprised him was how vivid the memories still were, and how much they still pained him, in spite of the years and the efforts he had made to forget. _

            It all came back in a rush. Malia's terrified face hanging over the burning abyss. The pain of the dagger slicing through his flesh, and the sheer agony of holding her weight with his lacerated arm. The expression in Malia's eyes as she let go of him, condemning herself to a horrific and painful death.  _That _ had hurt him the most. 

            Celeste idly traced the white scars on Gabriel's arm. "You did everything you could to save her. She chose to die, it wasn't your fault." 

            "She chose to leave me." The hurt was still fresh, after all this time. 

            "Rather than risk hurting you more, yes. She did." Celeste considered what Gabriel had told her--hearing the words from someone who had been there, had truly _seen what she had seen, had relived her immensely. Feeling Gabriel's pain, who had experienced the same thing, only much more intimately, she resolved to help him through it. Laying a hand on his cheek and deliberately projecting her newfound peace, she continued. "She loved you, Gabriel. But she's gone now. Now, someone else loves you. Don't make a mistake with her." _

            Staring at his daughter with respect and pride, Gabriel covered her hand with his own. She pulled away. 

            "I felt that," she said. "I don't feel right in calling you my father, or with you thinking of me as your child. I'm not. I want you to know that." She sounded apologetic. 

            Gabriel thought for a time. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of," he said, "and one of them is what I did to you and your mother. I don't want to take your father's place, even if I was cut out to be a parent, but there's no denyin' that we're related." He considered for a moment longer. "How about callin' me Uncle Gabriel?" 

Celeste quirked a smile as she considered it. "Uncle Gabriel? It sounds so formal." She winked mischievously. "Why not Uncle Gabe?" She laughed at his expression. 

            "If you must," he said. 

            "It's late. We're tired. I'm going to bed now. Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?" Celeste grinned at him and headed for the door. She opened it and said, "Good night, Uncle Gabe!" to the surprise of Grace, who was still seated in the hallway. 

Giggling slightly, much relieved, Celeste went off to bed and a dreamless sleep.  
  


* * *

            Grace stepped into the room. 

            "Uncle Gabe?" she said, incredulously. 

            "Neither one of us would be happy with 'Daddy' now, would we?" He tried for a half-hearted chuckle, but was too tired. 

            "You sound awful." 

            "Thanks." 

            "I'm serious. You've had a rough night." 

            He smirked slightly. "Tell me 'bout it." His face fell. "I'm completely drained, Grace. I just want to go to bed and forget that tonight ever happened." 

            Grace had been planning to talk with Gabriel, but could see that it wouldn't do any good tonight. She decided on the direct approach. "Let me help you." She started pulling his shirt up. 

            "I think I can manage that by myself, thanks." 

            "I know." She drew the T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

            "Gracie. . . " he warned. 

            "Shh. I've been thinking a lot tonight," she said as she pulled his arm over her shoulders to support him. 

            Gabriel stood awkwardly for a moment before toppling into bed. "Glad to hear it," he said, as he settled. "You're good at that." 

            "I've been trying to imagine," she sat next to him, "what my life would have been like without you." Trailing a hand down his bare chest, she absently rubbed the chain of the talisman between thumb and forefinger. 

            Gabriel had been through a few emotional hells already that night. He felt like the top of his head had been opened and the contents stirred around with a pointy stick. That being said, he did a remarkable job of hiding from her his nervousness at the direction she was taking. 

            "Oh? And what did you decide?" He tensed only slightly, even though he was afraid of the answer. 

            "If I had never met you, I'd probably have my doctorate by now, and would be living a calm life teaching history at some college with only inter-office politics and calls from my mother to break to monotony of lectures and grading papers." She stroked his face with gentle fingers. "I would never have been kidnapped for use as a voodoo sacrifice, I would never have gotten anywhere  _near  a werewolf, and I  _definitely _ would not have been tripping over dead bodies or had anything to do with vampires." _

            Grace stretched out on the bed and nuzzled her head against Gabriel's shoulder. "In short, life would have been a lot less interesting." 

            Smiling sleepily, his last fear assuaged, Gabriel wrapped his arm around Grace and hugged her. "Thank you," he said simply and closed his eyes. 

            "For what?" Grace asked, but he was already asleep.


	13. Truce

            Gabriel woke slowly. Vaguely recalled dreams evaporated like dew in bright sunshine, leaving only a memory that they had even occurred. He looked down at the arm thrown over his chest. His eyes traced the line of Grace's shoulder, the slope of her breast where it showed above the sheet, the hollow of her throat, the curve of her cheek. 

            Unfortunately, his right arm was asleep. 

            He traced her lips with gentle finger. "Gracie?" he whispered. 

            "Mnh." 

            "Can I have my arm back, now?" 

            "Mnh." She rolled over. 

            "Other way," Gabriel muttered into her shoulder. 

            Grace shrugged, nearly taking off his nose. He gave her a gentle push. She rolled again, this time in the right direction. 

            Gabriel pulled his arm back and waited for the fiery tingles to die away. 

            He admired the smooth skin of her exposed back.  _She's so beautiful,  he thought, then realized something important. _

            "Gracie?" 

            "Hmm?" She opened one eye. 

            "Why are you naked?" 

            "Hm." It was a laugh, of sorts. The eye closed. 

            Gabriel chuckled softly. Moving slowly, in an attempt to not disturb her any more, he got out of bed. 

            It had been nearly six weeks since the casts had come off, and his legs were finally getting to the point where he could really use them again. It felt good. 

            He made his cautious way downstairs to the kitchen where Gerde was just taking a sheet of biscuits out of the oven. He waited for her to set the hot tray down, then snuck up from behind and, with a growl, picked her up in a bear hug. 

            Gerde squeaked in surprise, then laughed out loud. 

            "You're up early," she remarked after he set her down. 

            "Well, my arm was gettin' more sleep than me, so I figured I might as well eat." 

            Gerde puzzled over that. "Grace again?" 

            "Yup." 

            "She's been doing that more often, lately." 

            "Yeah. I can't figure out why." 

            "Why don't you ask her?" 

            "She avoids the subject if I try. I think she just doesn't want to commit to anything, yet." 

            "Turnabout is fair play." 

            He winced. 

            Gerde kissed his cheek. "Take her breakfast in bed." She winked. "Chicks dig that." 

            Gabriel snorted. "You've been talkin' to Celeste again, haven't you." 

            "Of course. She is your d--" Gabriel's glare stopped her. "Fine," she went on. "She is related to you, and to Wolfgang. I should get to know her." 

            At the mention of his uncle's name, Gabriel softened. "Right," he said. He enfolded Gerde for a quick hug. "Sorry." 

            "Maybe you should take Grace her meal before she comes down," Gerde said brightly. Her loss still grieved her, but she locked it away. "I'll help." 

            Grinning gratefully, Gabriel dropped the subject.  
  


* * *

            Grace woke up, rolled over, and groaned. The bed was empty.  _Well, that didn't work._  

            She had been trying to help Gabriel with his…problem. There had been long talks between them, and she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't himself yet. He wasn't whole. 

            Celeste had confirmed Grace's impressions when Grace had discreetly asked about him. "You're right," Celeste had said. "He's upset and trying not to show it." She had refused to go into detail, though, saying that it was impolite to pry, with a meaningful look at Grace. 

            Grace had had the grace to be ashamed of herself and had quickly changed the subject.  That had been five weeks ago. 

            Later that night, after a particularly trying session of rehab, Gabriel had been very dispirited. 

            "It's okay," Grace had assured him. "You haven't used your legs for four months. It takes time to repair that kind of damage." She had run her hand through his hair, which was still short, but growing quickly. 

            He had shaken her off. "I'm well aware of that, Gracie," he'd grumbled. "You don't need to tell me things I already know. And leave my hair alone." 

            She had stopped, then. She knew that Gabriel thought of his hair as a visible symbol of his sexuality. She resolved then to restore him to his old self. She cared about him too much to not try. 

            That night, instead of going back to her own room to sleep, she had slept in his bed. Gabriel had been surprised, but willing to have her there without any questions at that time. When he did ask her about it later, she couldn't admit to the truth, so she had changed the subject. 

            After that first night, she spent the rest of the week in her own bed. The next week, she had spent three nights by his side. She tried more and more often to entice Gabriel. 

            Last night, she had taken it a step farther. Aware that the mere presence of her at his side was not enough to help him, she had waited until he turned out his light, then crept into his room, silently undressed, and crawled into bed with him. 

            Gabriel had already been asleep. 

            Grace laughed softly at the memory.  _Maybe the dark wasn't such a good idea.  Still laughing to herself, she slid out of bed and headed off to take a shower. _

* * *

            Gabriel fumbled the door open and came in with an attractively arranged breakfast tray. Then he looked up and nearly dropped it. 

            Grace had just stepped out of the bathroom, glossy black hair wet and clinging fetchingly to her smooth neck. Her damp, pale skin was still flushed pink from the heat of the water. She was clad only in the briefest of towels. 

            She jumped when she saw him. 

            "Gabriel?" She looked into his wide green eyes, then dropped her gaze a little lower. "How sweet of you." 

            Gabriel followed her eyes to the forgotten tray, still held in his hands. "Oh. Yeah." 

Breakfast was the last thing on his mind. He set the tray down quickly. "Ah. I'll just…let you get dressed." He turned to leave but his treacherous legs, not yet fully recovered, chose that moment to quit. He fell hard against the wall. 

            Grace was at his side in an instant, supporting him, leading him to a chair. He collapsed into the seat and refused to look up. 

            "Don't worry about it. This kind of thing will happen for a while. You just need more time." She gave him a comforting hug and kissed the top of his head. 

            "Grace?" 

            "Yes?" 

            "You've lost your towel." 

            She looked down. He was right. "It's nothing you haven't seen before," she said with a shrug. 

            He tried to avoid noticing what the gesture did to her physiology, but that's a difficult task when it's pressed against one's forehead. 

            "Grace…" he pleaded. 

            "What?"

            He looked up a bit and nearly lost an eye. "Isn't it a little cold for this?" he asked pointedly. 

            She backed away, hurt by the rebuff. "I suppose you're right," she said sharply. "Thank you for breakfast." 

            "Gracie, don't." The look he directed at her could put kicked puppies to shame. "I just…can't. Please?" 

            The raw pain in his voice was too much to resist. "Sorry," she said, contritely. She wrapped the towel around herself, scooped up her clothes, and went into the bathroom to dress. 

            Gabriel heaved a shaky sigh. He tried to drive the image of Grace's perfect body from his mind. It wouldn't leave. He had seen her before, but in faint moonlight, or through a drunken haze, never before while wide awake in the clear light of day. She looked better than he remembered, and his mind could match that lovely form with a variety of poses, each more alluring than the last. 

            He shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew that she enjoyed his discomfiture as well-deserved and fully justified revenge, but to see her and want her and _know she was willing --if only he was able--that was torture. _

             _Why does she do this to me? _  
  


* * *

            Celeste woke up in a flash of pain and anger. She stayed in bed until she couldn't take it anymore, then threw back her blankets and stomped down the hall. 

            Upon reaching Gabriel's door she pounded on it until her fist hurt. 

            Gabriel jumped at the sound and, levering himself to his feet, carefully walked over and opened the door. 

            As soon as it began to move, Celeste kicked the door, nearly toppling Gabriel. She strode in. 

            "Stop it now," she announced. 

            "What?" 

            "You heard me." Celeste struggled to keep her anger from leaking back to Gabriel. It didn't work. 

            Grace rushed in, clothes in place, hair still wet and disheveled, and stopped in amazement. Gabriel was literally cowering before the small woman in front of him. Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Celeste beat her to it. 

            "You too!" she bellowed. "The two of you are going to sit down and  _talk _ to each other before I kill you both. I can't even sleep with all the hurt feelings in this room." Celeste glared at the pair. "Grace, Uncle Gabe, sit down. Now!" she barked. They unthinkingly obeyed. "I'm going downstairs. When I come back you  _will _ have worked things out. Do I make myself clear?" Without waiting for a response, Celeste turned on her heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

  
  


* * *

            At the sound of angry footsteps Gerde looked up, dripping honey from her half-eaten biscuit. 

            "Wuffs," she began, then swallowed. "What's wrong?" 

            Stomping over, Celeste dropped into a chair. "I'm gonna kill them," she said darkly. 

            "Why?" It didn't take a genius to figure out who "they" were. 

            "I can't even sleep with them all feeling so hurt and upset. No offense, Gerde, but you don't help matters." 

            The older woman froze. "What do you mean?" she asked as casually as she could. 

            "You hurt a lot, you worry constantly, and every time you pass that picture of Wolfgang in the entry hall it feels like somebody's stabbed you." Celeste had been buttering a biscuit while she spoke. She looked up now. "Wanna get it off your chest?" 

            Gerde silently finished her biscuit and picked up a piece of fruit at random. 

            "It'll help us both. I know you want to talk," Celeste coaxed. 

            Gerde looked woodenly at her hands. She'd selected an orange. She peeled it. 

            Celeste flinched. "That was a nasty thing to think," she said. Then, "Don't feel embarrassed. I'm sure I deserved it." 

            Gerde flushed. "That's very irritating, do you know that?" 

            "Sorry. I can't help it. Wish I could." 

            "I'm sure there is something in the library to help you work out a shield of sorts," Gerde said crisply. 

            "I can make one, but it goes away after a little while." 

            "Why?" 

            "I can block it out if I think about something really hard, but how long can I concentrate on something? Not long enough." 

            "I wish you'd try harder," Gerde snapped. "I don't like you in my head." 

            "I don't like being there!" Celeste burst out. Ashamed of herself, she returned to breakfast.

            Gerde ate her orange while Celeste nibbled intently on her biscuit. 

            "Would you like some tea?" Gerde offered, finally. 

            Startled, Celeste looked up, but saw, and felt, only sincere apology. "Yes. Please."

            Gerde poured a cup and passed it over. 

            "Thanks. For breakfast, too. You do everything around here, but no one seems to appreciate that. Thank you." Celeste smiled with the easy charm of her natural father. 

            Gerde relented. "I still miss Wolfgang," she began.

* * * 

            After the door shut, there was a pause before Grace said, "Sooooo. . . what did you bring me?" 

            Grateful for an innocuous distraction, Gabriel replied, "See for yourself. Gerde made biscuits, there's butter and that wildflower honey you like, and some of that tea, I don't remember what it's called, starts with a 'd.'" 

            "Darjeeling?" 

            "That's it. There's some fruit, too," he added casually. "It's in that covered bowl." 

            "Sounds wonderful." Reaching over, she opened the bowl. "Strawberries!" she exclaimed. 

            He grinned at her delight. "Surprise." He watched her pick up a berry and nibble tentatively at the end. Her expression was priceless. 

            "Oh, Gabriel! Try one, they're perfect." 

            He opened his mouth to refuse, but Grace put her berry between his teeth. He bit down reflexively. It  _was  good. _

            "You like?" Grace asked. He nodded. "Good." She finished her berry, all the while making throaty noises of pleasure. 

            "Should I leave you alone with your fruit?" he teased. 

            "No. You can watch." She winked seductively and took another strawberry. 

            "Don't start that again," he cautioned her. She laughed. "Want some tea?" he offered. 

            "Please." 

            He poured a cup and slid it toward her, then pulled a biscuit toward himself. 

            "What do you want to talk about?" Grace sipped her tea. "This could use a little honey," she commented. 

            "Here ya go." He spooned a dollop of honey into her cup. 

            "Thanks." She stirred it in and tasted the result. "Much better." 

            "There is somethin' I wanted to ask you," Gabriel began as he split his biscuit with a fork and buttered both halves. "I've been havin' a hard time comin' up with somethin'." 

            "What's that?" Grace took another strawberry and trailed it over her lips, enjoying the texture. 

            "What do you think, just askin'," he drizzled honey liberally over his biscuit, "what do you think of me callin' my next book  _Holy Blood ?"_ He took a bite. 

            Visibly altering her train of thought, Grace answered, "It's better than  _Blood-sucking Fiends ,_ but it still doesn't quite fit. How about  _Immortal Life ?"_

            They both considered that for a moment. 

            "Nah." 

            "No. Wait, I've got it," Grace continued, _" Sacred Trust ."_ She ate the berry in her hand. 

            _" Sacred Trust . Huh. I like that." _

            Gabriel took a thoughtful bite. The biscuit crumbled, gluing honey-drenched fragments to his jeans. "Damn!" He started to pick up the pieces, but Grace stopped him.

            "You've got honey on your hands, too. You'll just make a bigger mess. Let me help." She began cleaning biscuit debris from his lap. 

            Ignoring her ministrations as best he could, Gabriel concentrated on cleaning the sticky honey from his hands. At one point, however, he felt compelled to say, "You can stop that, Gracie." 

            "But you've got honey in your zipper," she said with contrived innocence. "I was just--" 

            "I know what you're doin' Gracie," he interrupted. "Just stop." 

            She flashed him a hurt look. He held his ground. 

            "Fine then." She drank half of her tea and prepared a biscuit for herself while Gabriel finished cleaning off his hands.

            There was a short silence as Gabriel took a strawberry and ate it. It was sweet, slightly tart, and mouth-wateringly good. 

            "Reminds me of someone," he muttered. 

            "What was that?" Grace took a bite of her biscuit. 

            "Just thinkin' out loud," he said, slightly embarrassed. He looked at her then. "You've got honey on your mouth." 

            "Where?" 

            Touching his own mouth in demonstration, he said, "Right here. No, other side. Lower. Left. My left. Here, let me get it." 

            He wiped the smudge away with his thumb. Grace caught his hand. "Shame to waste any more," she said. "It's good honey." She licked the honey from his thumb, then sucked the digit into her mouth. Peering out from under her lashes, Grace noticed the pained look on Gabriel's face. She let go and he pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned. 

            "Sorry. Did I bite you?" 

            "No." 

            "Want me to?" she leered. 

            "No!" he snapped. 

            Hurt, Grace gulped her tea. Gabriel wordlessly refilled her cup and added a spoonful of honey. He looked like he was trying to say something. 

            At last he managed, "Sorry." 

            "Why? For what?" 

            "I know I've hurt you before, Gracie, but are you done punishing me yet?" 

            "I'm a punishment now?" Her eyes sparked dangerously. 

            "No! I mean, what you do to me." 

            "And what might that be, aside from helping you at every turn without the least bit of gratitude?"

            "It doesn't help when you constantly flaunt the fact that I can't…" he deflated. "You know." 

            "Flaunt? I'm trying to  _encourage  you, you idiot! You're the one playing hard to get!" _

            "I'm not playing anything! There's nothing hard to get. Understand? I love you, Gracie, and I'll give you anything I can, but I  _can't! "_

            "I  _know _ you can't, that's why I've tried to give you a good reason! Why else would I--" Something sank belatedly into her brain. "What did you say?" 

            "I'll give you anything I can?" 

            "No. Before that." 

            "I'm not playing games?" 

            "You are now!" she growled. "Did you just say that you love me?" 

            "Ye--" Her kiss cut him off. 

            "Why didn't you say so earlier?" Grace asked eventually from her perch on his lap. 

            "I did." He fed her a strawberry. She moaned appreciatively. 

            "I mean after the hospital," she went on, after swallowing. 

            "So do I. We were drunk." 

            Grace blushed. "Oh. I still don't remember that." 

            "Gracie?" 

            "Yes, love?" 

            Gabriel stopped. "Say that again." 

            "Yes?" 

            He growled. She giggled. "I love you too, Gabriel." She kissed him again. "What were you saying?" 

            "I forget." 

            "Oh well." They laughed like lunatics, then finished eating, feeding each other tidbits all the while. 

            "Grace?"  Gabriel began after they finished eating, "can I ask you something?"

            "Remember what you were going to say?"

            "Something like that."

            "Go ahead."

            "I know we've got a lot to work out, still, but…will you promise me something?"

            "What, love?"

            "Don't leave me?"

            Grace traced the line of his face from hairline to neck with gentle fingertips, ending with a soft kiss on his lips.  Her mouth curved slightly with mischief.  "I'll think about it."

            Blinking in stunned silence, Gabriel stared at the woman in his lap.  "Why you little—"  The taste of Grace's tongue, velvety against his own, stopped his outburst.  His own lips turned up at the corners as his hands proceeded to work some mischief of their own against her.

  
* * * 

            Celeste nodded sympathetically. "If it's any consolation," she said, "I know exactly how you feel." She smiled encouragingly. 

            Gerde simply looked amused. "That's not a claim many people can honestly make," she observed. 

            "Do you want me to say something to them? Discreetly, I mean," Celeste added hastily. 

            "No. There are much more vital issues at hand." 

            Celeste frowned in concentration, then smiled. "It seems they've made up. That's nice," she said brightly. "This might be a good time for a friendly reminder." 

            "I'd rather you didn't," Gerde began. "I appreciate the thought, but--what's wrong?" she asked, concerned. 

            Celeste's eyes had gone wide and she was panting. "Keep. . . talking," she gasped. "They're--that's intense." She sighed, then jumped. "Talk to me, please!" she pleaded. "Get them out of my head!" 

            "What should I say?" 

            "Anything!" Celeste was frantic. 

            "Ah. Oh, um, I got a letter from Franklin yesterday." 

            "Franklin?" 

            "Yes. Gabriel's friend? He's a very nice gentleman, really." 

            "What did he say?" Celeste calmed as she focused on Gerde. 

            "Just the usual. What he's been doing." 

            "The 'usual?'" Celeste repeated. "Does he write you often?" 

            "About once a week or so. He leads quite an interesting life." 

            "Why does he write to you?" Intrigued now, the young empath forgot her earlier discomfort. 

            "Why shouldn't he?" 

            "It's just, I thought he'd write to Uncle Gabe or Grace if he wrote to anybody." 

            "Grace is a painful subject for him still, although it's getting better. As for Gabriel, he's still slightly angry with him. Franklin and I became quite good friends while everyone else was. . . preoccupied." 

            "I'm sorry, Gerde. For not noticing, and for causing a lot of the problems." 

            "It's not really your fault. It's Gabriel's. He's irresponsible, impetuous, and absolutely maddening. I care for him, but he will never be the man Wolfgang was." Gerde's voice trembled. 

            "That's true. He'll also never be the man my father was," Celeste said soberly. "However," she went on, "he's someone just as important. Himself." 

            Gerde considered that. "He does have a way about him." 

            "That he does." 

            "He makes me laugh." 

            "He can make you feel special." 

            "He thoroughly enjoys life." 

            "And how many people can say that?" 

            "Exactly." 

            They stared at one another for a long time. 

            Abruptly, Celeste went rigid. "Thinking about Uncle Gabe is _not the wisest course of action," she remarked in a very carefully modulated voice. _

            Smothering a laugh, Gerde tried to provide a distraction. "Franklin is a dear man, but he is the most unorganized person I've ever met," she said. She laughed then, but not at Celeste. "I helped him pack when he left. I found his keys in a shoe, his wallet under the bed, and, do you know, I don't believe we ever did find his handcuffs." 


	14. Epilogue

            Gabriel woke up to sunshine on his face, the press of Grace's head on his shoulder, and a familiar, long-absent feeling between his legs.  Slipping a hand beneath the covers for reassurance, he verified that his recovery was, in fact, complete.  A wide grin spread across his face.

            Rolling slightly, pressing Grace's body gently into the bed, he whispered into her ear, "Gracie, wake up."

            She opened her eyes for a brief moment before gravity forced them closed again.  "Huh?"

            "I've got a surprise for you."

            "Wha'?  Oh…."  Her eyes flew open.  "Oh!"

            Gabriel's sultry laugh carried out the window, into the golden sunrise.


End file.
